Be Not the Victim
by Savvy'sGut
Summary: Voldemort has been dead for over seven years. The Death Eaters have all scattered, but that doesn't mean the end has arrived. Something far more sinister has been brewing and it's finally caught up.
1. Life of the Dead is Memory of the Living

_Putting The Breakfast Club on hold for now. It's gotten incredibly dramatic (but fun) and so, I want to start something else...  
Hermione Granger has always been one of my favourite characters and I feel as if she deserves some spotlight. Enjoy! :D_

* * *

It was a beautiful, warm dusk. The sea was especially calm and perfect. The sky was just turning to pinks and purples, the sun was on its way down for the night. What a wonderful sight it was-the cliffs overlooking an endless ocean, a small breeze blew through the hairs of the crowd, just enough to keep people comfortable; not too hot, not too cold. Just perfect.

Hermione sat on the small, uncomfortable chair, beside other uncomfortable chairs, staring down at the coffin in the deep hole. She was completely unaware of how perfect the world looked at the moment. Only what was in front of her. She wasn't crying. She didn't have enough tears to cry with anymore. She could feel her nerves, especially when she looked down at her hands. They were still shaking. A hand reached over and placed it gently on her own. Long fingers, pale hands, carefully painted nails; Ginny. Hermione smiled to herself and placed her other hand over Ginny's warm one without looking up. She appreciated the gesture and glad for the comfort it brought.

Hermione wasn't listening to the sermon, she didn't care about it. All she knew and cared for was the dark, heavy-glossed black coffin being slowly lowered into the ground. She cared about what was inside, who was inside, where he might be going. She sighed softly and stared as hundreds of beautiful individual flowers were being placed inside the hole, landing gently on the coffin. In front of the 8x5 hole, was a headstone-the usual "Here Lies..." the few words that couldn't possibly describe the thoughts Hermione had swirling around in her head of what _he_ was like, who _he_ was, _her_ beloved. Beside that headstone was another, and another, and another. Hermione was tired, tired of death, betrayal, and violence. Hermione closed her eyes briefly and sat there silently. One-by-one, people began to leave, slowly, sadly, not forgetting a passing murmur in her direction, a sorry, their condolences, their grief. She didn't care.

Hermione felt a squeeze and looked up to see Ginny and Harry watching her carefully, small smiles and sad eyes lingering on their faces. They were on their feet, the last to leave her side. Careful and watchful.

"We'll see you at the pub?" Harry said, softly, looking at her.

Hermione nodded her head, "Yes, yes, I'll be there."

"Okay." Harry said leaning forward and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Oh, darling." Ginny said, reaching down and giving Hermione a strong hug, her tears having left stains on her freckled cheeks.

Hermione smiled over Ginny's shoulder, a sad smile. A smile she didn't have a name for but it felt good and kindred.

Ginny let go and mirrored Hermione's unnamed smile, "We'll see you soon."

Hermione nodded, her attention back at the coffin. She wasn't sure how long she stood there, watching, perhaps hoping...for what? She couldn't stay long. She didn't want to watch more bits of dirt covering what was left of someone she loved, gone from her life, out of her control. Hermione stood up and closed her eyes to take in a deep breath, trying hard to subside the feelings of anger she had deep within the crevices of her mind. She placed her sunglasses firmly on her head and shoved her hands in her coat's pockets. She heard a shuffling close by and looked up. Two tall, familiar figures were heading in her direction; Kingsley Shacklebolt and Gawain Robards.

"Minister. Sir."

"Please, Hermione, it's Kingsley, today." Shacklebolt replied in his deep voice. He reached down and gave Hermione a strong hug which she returned, "It was a beautiful ceremony."

"Agreed." Robards said, giving Hermione a small peck on the cheek, "Shacklebolt and I were discussing on a wager about this place. We might just have to force Bill and Fleur out ourselves and retire here."

Hermione smiled and began to walk with them, away from the sea, away from the uncomfortable chairs, from the hole in the ground, _him,_ "Heading to the pub, then?"

"Wouldn't miss it." Shacklebolt said, nodding his head.

"I think Ron would find it highly offensive if we didn't make an appearance." Robards said kindly, placing his hands in his robes, "That man could outdrink all of us."

There was silence then Kingsley started almost casually, "I saw Esme today. Will she be at the pub as well?"

Hermione looked at him suspiciously.

"Shacklebolt." Robards started, almost warningly.

"Nothing about past lives," Kinglsey said, quickly, waving his large hands, "Just wanted to speak with her. She left rather abruptly."

Hermione looked at him briefly and nodded, "Yes, she'll be there. She'll be playing tonight."

Robards led the way toward Bill and Fleur's cottage. They had left it open so that others could easily travel to the pub through Floo Powder. The Grapes and Fox was a small pub and not the best idea to suddenly apparate, save someone's neck breaks because of an accidental landing. The three of them stepped inside and Shacklebolt reached for the pot of silver powder over the fireplace mantle.

"See you in a bit."

Hermione watched as Kingsley stepped through the fireplace and left in a green flame, Robards followed behind but not before turning and winking at Hermione, "I'll make sure he keeps away from Esme, Hermione. We don't need that tonight."

Hermione nodded and watched him disappear. Hermione sighed reaching for her own pinch of silvery powder. For just a split second, she wondered whether she should even go. No, she should. There was a sudden creak behind her and she turned, her hand already in her pocket, gripping her wand.

She didn't say anything for a moment, merely observed the tall, stoic figure. Hermione gave him a nod and a very small smile, "Malfoy."

Draco Malfoy nodded his head toward her, his grey eyes unblinking and attentive as he stood at the doorway. This wasn't the same spoiled little school boy Hermione knew in Hogwarts, he had changed quite a bit; his attitude, his fears, his very nature. He was older and wiser. His pale hair was receding slightly, wrinkles of worry on his forehead had swept away what was once a very smooth, naive face. He had become an important man now, a man of power, not a coward-brave. But he was always quiet, taciturn at the best of times, and serious all the time.

The two of them stood there, silently, the seconds passing by.

"You could've have joined us, you know." Hermione finally said.

"No." Malfoy replied, shaking his head, "I prefer the shadows. I doubt my presence would have been completely welcoming, besides."

"We're not children anymore, Malfoy." Hermione said, but she understood Malfoy's position. His very profession involved shadows, it was a constant reminder, "Listen, we're all heading down to the pub. You should join us. ...He would have wanted it."

Malfoy said nothing for a moment, his face indecipherable, "Perhaps."

"Esme will be playing." Hermione continued, smiling to herself, but her face still, "I'm sure you saw her earlier."

"Esme. Yes. I did." Malfoy's often steadied and resilient composure was off by just a beat, Hermione saw it, but he said nothing else.

Hermione gave him a nod and reached for the Floo Powder.

"I'm sorry, Granger." Malfoy finally said, sincerely.

"Thank you." Hermione said throwing the powder into the fireplace, muttering under her breath, "Everyone is."

Hermione could hear the roar of laughter and the sounds of joy before she even arrived at the pub''s fireplace. It was a favourite hangout for many of them and she would not have preferred it any other way. Ginny and Harry had set it up, they knew him best. She smiled to herself, despite her feelings and stepped through, brushing ash off her shoulders. Large glass mugs of beer were being thrown from the bar and caught by hand from the air by the owners, colourful fires of bright greens and light blues sat merrily in the corner fireplaces as more people arrived. Small house elves were quickly making their way through the crowded pub, picking up dirty dishes and piling them high on their heads. It was incredibly loud and so very cheery. Hermione couldn't help but smile. All faces turned toward Hermione and the noises lowered and pitying smiles ran through everyone's faces.

"What's with all this melancholy?" Hermione said, hating the faces, "It's Ron we're talking about."

"Cheers, love." Said a voice in the back, a glass in the air.

There was a loud chorus of "aye" and laughter, glasses raised and at once everyone took a long drink.

"Hey! Hey!" yelled another voice, shouting over the noise, "Some salutes are to be made."

"To my son." Hermione looked up and saw Arthur Weasely, his tall, gangly frame holding a glass over his head. His other hand was grasping his wife's, her eyes filled with tears. Hermione could feel her chest tighten, wondering what Molly could possibly be feeling. Arthur swallowed and turned to face Hermione, standing silently by the fireplace. "He loved you so much, Hermione. He was a wonderful human being." He gave Hermione a nod and drowned his half-pint.

A chours of "aye" and everyone took a drink.

"To Ron." spoke up another familiar voice, George. He was standing tall, his glass over his head, looking at everyone with a rare sombre look, again, other glasses followed. There was silence as people watched George speak, another around his older brother Percy, "May the bastard rest in peace. He never did give back me quid from the last game."

Hermione smiled knowingly and laughter resounded throughout the pub, "To Ron!"

"To Ron!" another voice yelled over the raucous, another glass lifted, another familiar face, Dean Thomas, "May the man finally blowout his own home, the cheeky arse."

More laughter as Hermione made her way further into the pub and toward the bar. The pub owner, Mr. Wilkes, had already pulled out a pint for her and leaned in to give her a kiss, "There love, come back as much needed."

"Thank you, Wilkes." Hermione said, quickly draining half her glass. She sighed, dropping her mug upon the wooden top and looking out at the many faces in the room.

"To Ron." Another voice popped up, Harry. Oh, Harry. He was hit harder than any one of them, even Hermione. His eyes were bright and red, Ginny's hand on his arm, her other wiping tears away, "To Ron. The best friend, the best man anyone could have ever known. A good man. A brave man. A terrible Quidditch player."

More sounds of laughter. It was a booming sound, a welcoming sound. Hermione made her way to a table and with the help of Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom, she stood tall on the table, her half-finished pint in her hand and over her head. All eyes turned to her, small encouraging smiles flashing between faces.

"To Ron." Hermione started, finally feeling tears forming once again. Must have been the alcohol, "My best friend, loyal to a fault, and foolish enough to save every person in here without a thought to his own. That is what he did. It was his life."

"Aye!" Voices yelled.

"Also! Also." Hermione continued, feeling brave. Definitely the alcohol-Wilkes always had the best, "The best lover I've ever had!"

There was a "HA!" and more laughter ensued. Hermione drained her drink before making her way to Arthur and Molly Weasely. They looked very much more at ease, now that the talk in the pub was more about Ron's antic. Arthur's face was turning red from the drink, his face full of joy. Molly was wiping tears from her eyes, but from belly laughter, not sadness. Hermione was happy to see this as she knelt down before Molly.

"Oh, Hermione, dear!" Molly reached around Hermione and wrapped her arms around her. Hermione accepted it, enjoying the tight-motherly hugs she had forgotten. Hermione didn't want to let go, she enjoyed the familiarity. It was far to often how lonely she felt, now that Ron was gone. It felt like years, "It is so wonderful to see you."

"And you." Hermione said, when she was able to extricate herself. She looked at Molly's mothering face, "How are you?"

"Oh, pish." Molly said, waving her hand around, "Fine, fine. Never better."

Hermione knew she was lying. Molly's hand was holding on to her husband's tightly, her knuckles were turning white. Hermione also knew, it's a difficult task to convince Molly otherwise, still.

"Ginny and Fluer were looking for you, dear." Molly said, placing a hand softly against Hermione's cheek, "At the bar."

Hermione stood and kissed Molly's cheek before walking over to the bar. Wilkes already had a pint for her waiting and winked as she took it. She smiled at him, "How are you doing, Wilkes?"

"Alright, love." The big man said, waiving his hand over a dishrag in front of him and grabbing another under the bar. He took a glass and wiped it's inside, "Busy, but tha's alrigh' Anyfin' fo' Ron, ye?."

"Heard from Hagrid, yet?"

Wilkes looked at her, then shook his head, "No, love."

Hermione nodded, "Okay, I'll talk to you later."

Wilkes nodded and turned his attention to someone calling him out, "Be, ther' in a mo'!"

Hermione drained her glass and smiled as she carefully made her way down the table and toward the bar again, she was looking for someone in particular but didn't have seemed to arrive yet. Kingsley was in deep conversation with Robards, and both raised a glass in Hermione's direction when they saw her. She nodded her head and turned her attention to others she'd rather be around. Soon, she found Harry and Ginny, their own glasses drained and waiting for more. Harry and George, Bill, Percy, and Charlie, were all in deep conversation talking about Ron, making jokes, laughing. It was telling. Ginny and Fleur Delacour were talking as well, their eyes wet, but their mouths happy. Ginny saw Hermione first and took the mug from Hermione's hands, shaking her head.

"Talking of my brother that way." Ginny said, smiling, as Harry waved at Wilkes again, "Who's the cheeky bastard, eh?"

Hermione smiled, feeling Fleur's hands fretting over Hermione's bushy hair, "How are you, Ginny? Fleur?"

"As best as could be expected." Fleur replied with a sad smile. She motioned around the room with her hands, "Ginny and 'arry did a beautiful job."

Ginny nodded her head, "Ron would have liked this."

Hermione agreed.

"I know Mum and Dad act as if everything's alright, but it really isn't. And they really aren't." Ginny continued softly. Fleur leaned over and gave Ginny's arm a small squeeze.

"Your parents are strong." Fleur said, "I 'ave depended on zem, more zen my own parents, at times."

Ginny nodded her head and swallowed, "Still, they've had enough familial deaths to deal with. _I've_ had enough familial deaths to deal with. Everyone has had enough deaths. It was presumptuous of me to think it would ever be over, war."

Hermione said nothing. It would be wrong to. It was not the time for politics.

"'Ow'er you doing, 'ermione?" Fleur asked softly, her hands still playing with Hermione's uncontrollable hair.

Hermione smiled a brave smile, "I don't think I'll ever get over this. I loved him and now he's gone."

"Oh, _ma cher_."

"Hey!" another voice sprang out. Heads turned as the doors flew opened and a woman came in through the door holding an instrument case followed by three more behind her, more instruments in hand, "Entertainment?"

"Always, love, always. Wilkes!" said the woman cheerfully, "Shot of whiskey, first."

Hermione smiled, gave Ginny and Fleur each a small hug and walked over to the front.

"Esme."

"Oh, Hermione, petal. " Esme Moon said, giving her friend a strong one-armed hug. Esme's hugs were always the best, always warm. She pulled away and threw a thumb at the others behind her, "Sorry, I'm late. The bastards were taking their bloody time, weren't you?"

"Oi!" exclaimed the man beside her, all smiles, a small nod toward Hermione, "Look 'ere, we don't need you tellin' us wha' doin'."

"If you want to get paid, you bes' be." Esme replied, glaring at him. She gave a nod to Wilkes and downed the shot waiting for her. She stared at the man beside her with a look.

"Ma'am." The man turned toward the bar, tipping his hat, "I'll get the drinks."

Esme turned smiling at Hermione. She placed her arm around Hermione's elbow and the two of them made their toward the back of the crowded pub where she and the rest of the band could set up.

"I am terribly sorry to be late." Esme said, unzipping her instrument case and pulling out a fiddle, "The taxi we called never showed up. I planned to be here before the first could arrive."

"Don't fret, Esme." Hermione said, settling into a couch. Ginny had shown up and handing Hermione another pint before receiving one of Esme's famous hugs. Ginny plopped down beside Hermione, a glass mug cradled in her hands, "Ron was never punctual, it's just more memories of him."

Esme sighed, "Okay. I'll play better than I ever had. For you, for Ron. For everyone he was precious to, bless him."

"I know." Hermione said, looking at her, "I've missed you, you know. Thank you for coming to the funeral."

Esme looked at Hermione, her fiddle on her lap, her face with an unusual grim look, "I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Other matters can always wait."

"Kingsley is here." Hermione warned her, leaning forward.

"I know." Esme replied without looking up as she adjusted something on her violin bow, "He's been eyeing me since I arrived...he has nothing over me anymore."

"No, just busy being the Minister of Magic."

Esme sighed, annoyed, "What could he possibly want to talk to me about?"

"Coming back to work?" Hermione said, looking at her, "I wouldn't mind, you know. No one would. You were en excellent sleeper, everyone in the department would attest to that."

Esme shook her head, "No, no, no, no, I said I'd never go back. I won't. Even the Minister of Magic doesn't have that power."

"Hullo, Esme."

"Ooh, hello, Harry." Esme said softly, standing to give yet another hug. Harry was clearly tipsy, his face red, his eyes glossy, but he was still steady on his feet. Up close, he looked incredibly tired. Harry had dark circles under his eyes, his face unshaven. He found Ginny and as smoothly as he could, sat beside her, his arms over her shoulders. Ginny leaned into him and cradled herself against his chest as she absentmindedly fingered Harry's chin.

"It's been awhile, Esme. How are you?" Harry continued, blinking a few times, using his fingers to comb through the thick hair on his head.

"Happy you owled." Esme responded, using her pegs to tune her instrument as she spoke, "You caught me on my way to Bulgaria, for a session. On a muggle train."

"Muggle train?" Harry asked, looking at her, grinning.

Esme chuckled, "You should have seen the looks of the other passengers. It's like they've never seen a giant owl fly beside a moving vehicle before."

The others smiled.

"Naturally, I opened the window and the owl dropped the letter. I was so happy to see your name on the envelope. I changed course as soon as I could."

The rest of Esme's band had finally arrived with drinks, getting their own instruments ready. Tables and chairs were now being positioned to turn toward the band, waiting, expecting. Laughter was dying down, words were being whispered. It was a comfortable anticipation for anything to gladden Ron's memory, to wipe away the sadness and celebrate his life. Candles were now floating over the band's heads, letting off a soft glow. Arthur and Molly sat closer to Esme, waving their hands merrily at her.

In short time, Esme and the rest of her group were ready to play, " _Flowers of the Forest_."

There was a chorus of murmured agreement and the song commenced. It was beautiful and absolutely appropriate. There was a round of hearty applause and cheers as the song ended. A few moments later, the band continued to play different songs, each becoming more merrier than the next. After an hour, people were laughing again, joking and singing drunkenly. Two more hours later and patrons were too drunk to notice the night was dying down. Friends, colleagues, guests were beginning to stand and leave, each with something nice to say to Hermione and Ron's family. Others were sleeping on the tables, some were talking quietly with one another. All that was really left were those closest to Ron, old friends and family.

"Come on, love." Esme said softly, now standing beside Hermione, "I'm on a break. Let's leave these two alone and talk."

Hermione smiled as she turned her head to see Ginny and Harry sleeping, their heads close together, empty mugs in their hands. Arthur and Molly were sitting close, their heads together talking quietly and smiling. Hermione stood from the couch and followed Esme to an empty table. She held a pint in her hand and pushed another as Hermione sat at the table.

"Remember when we first met?" Esme asked after taking a sip of her pint.

Hermione grinned, nodding at a table by the wall, "There. You had just finished singing and downed an entire pint. I knew you from the office, didn't dream you played music."

Esme smiled.

"You recognized me and we started talking. You were so pissed."

Esme grimaced, "I don't remember anything..."

"After a while, you demanded I buy you another drink." Hermione sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, smirking at Esme, "I got them, but you still paid."

"Oh, dear." Esme said, her face red, "Couldn't possibly embarrass myself more."

"I don't believe a word of that." Hermione said, drinking from her own mug before looking at her, "I've seen you do worse."

"You're drunk." Esme accused.

"So are you."

They laughed.

"Oh petal, this is all for show, an act." Esme said, looking at her, "Inside, I am still a wee school girl."

"I loved you the moment I saw you." Hermione said, truthfully, "Hell, I wish I knew you at Hogwarts. Things might have been easier."

"Hah, fat chance." Esme said smiling and leaning back into her chair, "The only magic I possess would have been whatever musical talents my father so graciously bestowed upon me. How far that would have gotten me..."

"Better magical talent than Filch, the nasty man. Did I ever tell you about him?"

"A few times. If you met me then, you would never have fallen in love, had such infamous, dangerous adventures, become who you are." Esme said, looking at Hermione jealously, "But, I do love your stories of Hogwarts."

Hermione was quiet for a moment, "Do you find yourself feeling spiteful for not having magic?"

Esme cocked her head thoughtfully, "Sometimes, I'll admit. When I'm feeling sorry for myself. Still, I'm well-known in many pubs around the country, in both muggle and magical worlds. I do alright."

The two fell silent, but Hermione 's mind was far from quiet. Her thoughts were racing, subconsciously keeping her tears at bay, telling herself this was all just a dream, just a sick fantasy someone decided to force inside her memories.

Esme finished her pint, noticing something on Hermione's face, "Truthfully, love, tell me how you are?"

"I miss Ron." Hermione finally admitted, resting her chin on her hand. Esme placed a hand on Hermione's and said nothing. She continued, "I think about him all the time. I wish he was here to make me laugh, or fill me up with such rage from one of our stupid arguments. I wish..."

Esme waited with a small smile.

"Draco tried to save him, you know? Harry was there. So much chaos, there wasn't enough time...The big flaming idiot had to be the hero, he had to be the sacrifice. Why did he have to do that? Why? The stupid, stupid, idiot."

"Oh, petal," Esme said, sympathetically, "You're so strong. I wish I was like you."

Hermione snorted and the two laughed drunkenly.

"I'm so angry. So bitter." Hermione finally said after a moment of silence. She was finally expressing herself, something she's been avoiding since Ron's death. She felt fresh tears down her cheeks. She didn't believe she had any left, "This...unshakable thought of wanting to hurt, to _kill_ those that... This hasn't happened since Voldermort. Then it was personal, this time...it's worse."

Esme didn't say anything, merely squeezed Hermione's hand. Hermione let out a sigh and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. She took in a deep breath and reached for her pint, draining it. With a satisfied sigh, she dropped it on the table.

"Feeling better?" Esme softly.

"Yes." Hermione said with small sigh, "Thank you."

"We need to talk."

Hermione and Esme both looked up and saw Harry standing over them, his face uncharacteristically dour and very sober.

"We thought you were gone." Esme said.

Harry reached around and moved the nearest chair over to their table and sat, "It's important."

"Okay, " Esme raised her eyebrows and started to stand, "I'll just go pack-"

"No." Harry said, placing a hand on her shoulder, "I need you here."

Esme raised an eyebrow, then said, "What about Ginny?"

"Bill and Fleur will take care of her." Harry said, glancing over his shoulder, then he looked between Hermione and Esme.

"What's this about, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Ron." Harry replied, shortly.

Esme frowned, "What the hell...?"

Harry was talking very low, "Listen, it's important we all find a place to talk, but definitely not here, too many ears."

Hermione stared at Harry, he looked almost manic, "Harry..."

"Not now." Harry watched her, "Have you seen Malfoy today?"

"Briefly, at the funeral."

"He's already started." Harry muttered under his breath, Hermione and Esme exchanged glances, Harry continued, "I'll see you at work tomorrow, Hermione. Esme, stay in town, please?"

"Are you going to explain this-" Esme said waving her hands in a wide circle, "-mad-speak?"

"Not now." Harry stood and moved the chair back to its original table, "Stay in town."

The two of them watched Harry move away from the table. He pulled out his wand and with a twist of his wrist, a loud bang and he apperated.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" Esme said slowly, looking at Hermione.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, staring at her friend. She knew Harry, he was aware of something happening, and his hunches were always reliable. If this was about Ron, he and Malfoy must know something, picked up on something no one else had. Problem was, Ron's case was already closed, according to Robards.


	2. Doing Nothing Gets you Nothing

_Another quick chapter. This won't be a habit. :D_

 _Enjoy._

* * *

"Granger."

Hermione wasn't listening. She was leaning against a wall, arms crossed, and looking out a nearby window. It was a dreary day; the usual, dreary day. It had been raining since last night and it didn't look as if it was going to let up. There were even darker clouds looming in the distance, which meant more rain. Hermione's eyes slowly found their way down, toward the streets below. Dozens of people were walking back and forth quickly in the downpour under big, black umbrellas and dim, yellow streetlights. Hermione blinked and saw her reflection in the window. She had dark circles under her eyes, her hair was now short, but it was still quite wild. She didn't like her appearance at the moment. It was the first time she had even bothered about her appearance. Since Ron's death, Hermione's day consisted of sleep and food, and the occasional shower, and maybe work when she felt like it. Yesterday was the first day Hermione started feeling like herself. Now, she was noticing how she looked.

It had been about two months since Ron's funeral and about two months since she officially went back to work. It's also been about two months since Harry's enigmatic conversation at the pub. Not that Hermione hadn't heard more. Both Harry and Draco believe Ron's death was the cause of a deliberate set-up. The purpose of the trap was still unknown, but Harry still seem to have reason to believe that whoever started it, wasn't finished. Hermione had to admit she was very skeptical about the whole thing in the beginning, but as she continued working through the paperwork Harry provided; a pattern was definitely beginning to emerge, but it was hard to put her finger on it.

"Granger."

Hermione looked around her quickly. Williamson was standing by her desk, his face grim.

"Robards wants you in his office. He looks pissed."

Hermione nodded her head in acknowledgment, and watched as Williamson walked away. She had a feeling what it was going to be about and readied herself for a firm talking-to. Hermione sighed and moved away from the wall and the window. She made a left and walked down the hall, past desks and multiple offices. As usual, it was quite loud and busy. The Auror Office has always been very selective of whom they would choose, now, even moreso. New potential officers went through Harry's incredibly rigorous training program, exposed to curses, jinxes, and hexes. Everyone was required to be in excellent health and physical shape; every trainee was required to have a fitness test once a week-fail once and they were gone. Ever since Voldemort's fall, the presence of dark witches and wizards had become even more radical-most had scattered, but some formed their own sects in the name of Voldemort, or in order to take his place as "The Dark Lord". They were stupid, unhinged, and completely disorganised-everything Voldermort was not, and unbelievably more dangerous. Over Hermione's head, brightly coloured memos shaped as aeroplanes, birds, and other flying creatures that some of the office clowns would find amusing, like a flying pig, we're zipping in and out of offices, lifts, and rubbish bins. Hurried speeches, rushing figures, advanced dark detectors on every desk-work was the distraction Hermione needed.

Hermione turned the corner and saw Gawain Robards' office, his door open. She took a deep breath before knocking on his door. Robards was staring at a light brown file, his frown deepening as he continued reading. He looked up at Hermione's knock and motioned her to come in. Hermione did, watching his face. His blue eyes looked worse than hers, as if he hadn't slept in days. His face was worn and far from a smile. Relatively young, he had grown much older since he took office-after a year, his hair had flicks of grey, after two, it was positively white.

"Close the door, Granger."

Hermione did and waited. From his seat, Robards closed the file and threw it on the edge of his desk so it was facing Hermione. He pulled out his wand and waved it around the room. Hermione felt a sensation of complete silence. The silent charm. _Well, shit,_ Hermione thought.

"What the hell is this?" Robards said, dangerously quiet.

Hermione said nothing. She hesitated, then picked it up. She fingered its edge, knowing what the file was before even opening it. It's a file that's crossed her desk many times-her desk, Harry's, Draco's...it was a continuation of Ron's case, although, without consent. It wasn't exactly classified, so it wasn't really a secret. Still, it was never suppose to have crossed Robard's desk.

"By the look on your face, you know exactly what it is." Robards continued, now standing and leaning into his desk, staring at Hermione, "What the bloody hell is going on? Why do I have a _closed_ case file on my desk? Why does this case file specifically mention your name, Potter's, and Malofy's?"

"Have you spoken to Harry, sir?" Hermione finally said, looking at Robards, keeping any emotion away from her face.

Robards didn't say anything. He frowned and stood up straight, crossing his arms against his chest. It looked as if he was choosing his words, carefully, "Yes. I have. He believes there is something more about Ron Weasely'scase. He believes there is something... _sinister_ that caused Weasley's accident."

"Harry doesn't believe it was an accident."

"Don't you?" Robards asked, harshly. He took a breath and his face softened, "Look, Ron was an excellent Auror, he was a good man, his death was a terrible tragedy. But it's over. To the best of this office's ability, the scene was investigated. Ten months, this was top priority, _ten_. We can't continue this. It's becoming an obsession. There are other, vital cases 'round the clock we must keep our focus on, and we need our best for that."

Hermione looked at him, "Ron was one of our best. So is Harry. If Harry believes something else happened, isn't that worth investigating?"

"No." Robards said strongly, "I don't. There is nothing left to investigate. He'll be chasing ghosts and apparitions and its a waste of time."

"There's a pattern, sir." Hermione said, looking at him, "I've seen it. I know there's one."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, not you too." Robards replied, throwing his hands in the air.

"Is it officially closed, sir?" Hermione asked, staring hard at him.

Robards hesitated, "No, it isn't."

"But no one is investigating it."

" _I_ am investigating it." Robards said with a sigh, and fell heavily into his chair. He placed a hand to his forehead, "I'm working on it. I've been running around in circles with Shacklebolt. The Order has been looking into it. We've top people on this."

Hermione sat into the chair across from Robards desk, "So, why keep us away from it? This was Ron. My fiancé. Harry's best friend."

"That's precisely why you cannot be involved." Robards replied, suddenly sitting up in his desk and looking at her hard, "Both of you are too close. It's become to personal. This discussion is over."

"But sir, if-"

"NO!" Robards shouted, slamming a fist onto his desk. "I will not allow my investigators to run around like chickens with their heads cut off because of this. You'll end up hurt or worse, dead. All three of you are far too important and there are cases that need your attention, now. Is that understood."

Hermione looked at him then slowly stood up, dropping the file back on Robard's desk, "Completely."

Robards took a deep breath and let it out. His voice was softer and quieter, "I repeat, I won't see anymore of my investigators dead. Not on my watch. If I can prevent it, I will. This is off the table. No more."

Hermione nodded her head and turned toward the door. She reached for the handle and turned it, the door opening with a creak and the deadening silence between them lifted. The chaotic sounds of the Auror office blasted through in the office as Hermione made her way out, quickly. She was pissed. She understood Robards' heart was in the right place, and he was right, Ron was dead. Perhaps it was the loyalty Hermione had felt for the years she had known Harry, but she gave him a chance, and she believed there was something darker that was involved in Ron death. They were going to be married, and damn her if she wasn't going to see everything through.

"Hermione."

Hermione turned and saw Harry waiting by her desk. Hermione's temper hadn't receded just yet. She walked past him and sat heavily into her chair, "Harry."

"You alright?" Harry said, reaching for a chair and pushing it beside Hermione's desk.

"Just got yelled at from Robards. Doesn't want us touching the case anymore." Hermione sighed, reaching for her own pile of paperwork, "He's calling you mad, you know."

"Robards is a good man, but blind." Harry said, looking over his shoulder toward Robard's office. He looked back at Hermione, "What did he say?"

"He got his hands on your case file. How, I don't know." Hermione answered Harry's questioning face, "That doesn't matter, anymore. The Order has been looking into it, but that's all he said. Robards doesn't want us working on the case. As we expected."

"Do you have your doubts?" Harry asked.

Hermione stared at him. Since Ron's funeral, Harry had shaved and taken better care of himself. It was as if Ron's case had given him new vigor, more purpose. But Hermione has seen that look before-defiant and proud, almost crazed determination. She hesitated, "Robards is worried."

"I didn't ask about Robards." Harry said, frowning.

Hermione closed his eyes briefly.

"Harry, I do think you have something here. There is a pattern, I can see... _something_. But-" Hermione said hurriedly, before Harry could reply, "But, you need to be careful. This is your job, your life, and I think it's reasonable to understand where Robards is coming from."

Harry's eyes began to darken, his face becoming angry. He leaned in and began to hiss, "What the hell, Hermione, what the hell are you saying? This is Ron, we're talking about! Ron! Your fiancé, our best friend. Are you just going to-"

"No, of course not, Harry. How dare you!" Hermione hissed back, her temper already on edge was now flowing over, "Of course, I want to see this through, but you can be so bloody narrow-minded and not see everything that's dancing in front of your face. I loved Ron. Ron was everything to me. Don't you dare ever talk to me like that again. Do you understand?"

Harry blinked and Hermione saw him swallow. He looked as if he was about to mumble an apology when a neatly-folded paper floated softly onto Harry's shoulder. Harry snatched it and unfolded it. The look in his eyes changed dramatically and he looked up at Hermione, "Come on."

Hermione watched him stand up and kick the chair he was sitting in back to its original and practically running across the room. Hermione sighed again and stood up, following him quickly. She finally caught up with Harry by the lifts. He was waiting impatiently, small paces across the entrance.

"Harry?" Hermione started just as there was a ding as the lift doors opened. No one was in the lift as the two of them stepped through, which was a bit unusual. The Auror office was not a place that one can apparate into. Aurors' often went to a different department before apparating to their destined location.

"We need to get to the Atrium, Draco is here with Esme." Harry began after the lift doors closed, a cool woman's voice announced their next destination ("The Atrium"), "They have information."

"Hmm. They're working together again, are they?" Hermione said, casually, looking at Harry.

"Yes." Harry smiled slightly, then looked serious, "It also means they've found a lead that's going to help us."

"I see." Hermione responded, her mind racing.

"What?" Harry replied, shortly, staring at her.

"Just keep in mind what I've said, that's all." Hermione said, looking back at him, "I'm with you all the way, but Robards is going to be watching us."

Harry shook his head, "I will do whatever I have to, even if it kills me."

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed softly. The doors to the lift opened ("Welcome to the Atrium") and the two of them stepped out. Hermione and Harry walked together toward the Fountain of Magical Brethren. It was rebuilt after Voldemort's assault on the Ministry-instead of multiple creatures, only a single wizard was standing by himself, his wand high in the air, a stream of water falling from its tip. Down, far below the statue in the Wizengamont main court, was the witch, centaur and house-elf, looking up. A last request from Cornelius Fudge.

Beside the fountain was Draco and Esme, their heads close together, talking. Esme was smiling wildly, being her usual charming self, but the look on Draco's face was something Hermione never often saw; soft and warm. It was amazing the two got along at all. Esme had an unusual history. Her parents were both muggles but died rather abruptly when she was a little girl. Esme was found and adopted by two magical parents. Even as a young girl, Esme was aware of the magical world, which gave rise that perhaps Esme had some magic in her familial history. It turns out, Esme was distantly related to Maxwell Barnett, the author of the first book on Occlumency. Unfortunately, it was very rare if a witch or wizard were ever born in the family. Something Draco Malfoy would have absolutely hated, in another time.

"Draco." Harry said quickly as they approached.

"Hello, you two." Esme said with a smile, looking at them, "Fancy meeting you here."

Malfoy simply nodded.

"What have you found?" Harry asked quickly.

"We need to head to the muggle world." Esme said seriously, looking at Harry, "It'll be safer."

"Let's head to Grimmauld, the living room," Harry said, with a nod, "Then we'll decide where to go from there."

Hermione, Harry, and Draco pulled out their wands. Hermione automatically thought in her head " _determination, destination, deliberation_ ". Even after years of doing this, she knew the words as well as she knew her own face. A second later, she landed in Grimmauld Place, Number 12, right in the middle of the darkened living room. Another moment later Harry arrived beside her, then Draco with an arm around Esme. It was rather dusty as the four of them had landed on a large thick carpet. Hermione doubted Harry had much to do with this place. It held many ill-placed memories for him and he hardly cared a fig. Still, he must have been aware of how secure it was, or he wouldn't have ever suggested it.

"Bloody hell." Esme said, steading herself and raising a hand to her head, "I'll never get used to that."

"Shh." Harry placed his wand inside his cloak and walked over to the door to the room, quietly, "There's a number of wards I've placed around here. This room has the least. Still, I'd like to secure the area, anyway. I'm going to walk around and check the place out. Draco, join me? Hermione, can you start some charms here?"

Hermione nodded and watched as Harry walked out of the room, Draco following behind. Hermione started waving her wand, silently rehearsing the wards she remembered. Her thoughts brought her to her seventh year and found the feelings vaguely familiar. She was naive then, naive and young and disorderly. That was a scary time. Now, she was older and wiser, and her magic was stronger, forceful, and far more concentrated. Hermione felt she could take anything on.

"You alright, love?" Esme said, knocking Hermione out of her reverie, "You're far too deep in thought."

Hermione smiled at her friend, "Of course. Just thinking back to darker times."

Esme gave her a knowing grim smile. "I can imagine what coming back here must feel like. What Harry must be feeling."

"It's alright. We were children, then. Now, we're established. We see this everyday." Hermione finished with the final spell _, Salvo hexia,_ before dropping her wand and looking at Esme, "It's a familiar feeling, almost comfortable."

Esme raised an eyebrow, " _Comfortable_? That's awful, Hermione."

Hermione grinned, "I said 'almost'."

Just then, Harry and Draco walked into the room, looking around the room.

"Thank you, Hermione." Harry said giving her a nod, he turned to Esme, "Everything else looks secure. No one has stepped in here for a long time."

"Alright. Have a look, here. " Esme said, pulling out a thick rolled up parchment from a shoulder bag. She walked over to a dusty table and moved the old books, a black candelabra, and what looked like an old, dehydrated hand, out of the way. Esme didn't seem fazed as she unrolled the paper and placed the books and the candelabra on two corners of the paper. The other three crowded around her to stare. It was a massive and intricate map. Multiple, transparent pages had a section containing various boroughs of a city, together, the pages formed all of London.

"What a wonderful map." Hermione said, staring at it, amazed, "I've never seen such detail before, even on Dumbledore's knee."

"Yes, muggle-made." Esme said, looking at it proud, then giving Draco a wink, "Even we have our moments."

Draco grunted, but said nothing.

"What are you showing us?" Harry said, firmly.

"In mind, we've some key destinations where our contacts can meet us. Here, here, here, and here." Esme said, point to various locations around the city, "They are not the most safe places for muggles, but I figure with three powerful wizards, all involved will be just fine."

"So four contacts?" Harry said, leaning down and staring at the map, "Any of them reliable?"

"Draco and I believe all of them are reliable, all with different information. But-" Esme started, looking at him and crossing her arms, "-they're jumpy and easily mistrustful. For good reason. I never thought I'd come back to this old life and I blame you, Harry."

Harry didn't say anything.

"How soon can we meet with them?" Hermione asked, looking at her.

"You are not." Malfoy responded, calmly.

"What?" Harry asked, swiftly, looking between Draco and Esme.

"I agree. We are the only people our contacts would recognise." Esme continued, frowning, "Which means, only Draco and myself will speak with them. We know their timetables and their habits. Any sort of hiccup and they'll run."

Harry didn't like this, neither did Hermione. She spoke up, first, "This isn't safe. You just told us how dangerous this can be."

"This is not the first time I've done this. It was my livelihood, remember?"

"Not good enough." Hermione said, glaring at her.

"You'll be there, I promise. But, " Esme sighed, "you'll have to stay hidden. Draco will be with me, remember?"

"What about Death Eaters? Or whatever the bloody hell they call themselves, now." Harry started, straightening up and looking at Esme, angrily, "They'll know. They seem to know everything, don't they?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if they do. Which is why you're coming along." Esme said, "You'll have to do your charms or wards, or whatever you did to this house. Is that possible?"

"Can't Draco do that?"

Malfoy shook his head, "No one knows I'm a wizard and we'd like to keep it that way. The less they see, the better."

"What if one of us stood in your place?" Harry continued, looking at Malfoy, "Polyjuice Potion-"

"No." Hermione said quickly and sighed. The other three looked at her surprised, Harry most of all, "That potion takes too long and if these contacts are as uneasy as you say, any general habits not familiar with Draco will make them suspicious."

"Right." Esme said, giving Hermione a small smile, "Exactly. Besides, both of you know what to look for, it's your job."

Hermione stared at Harry, he was clearly thinking; any thoughts to somehow implant himself into the final conversation. Hermione knew he always wanted to be in the thick of things, but he had to learn to trust, as difficult as it was. She never truly believed Harry trusted Draco completely. Honestly, it was difficult for Hermione sometimes, too. Perhaps Malfoy knew this. Either way, it seemed out of their hands now.

"Alright." Harry said finally. "When's the first meet?"

"I know a smuggler who used to work for one of Voldermort's followers. He's called Parvan Weatherly."

"Never heard of him." Hermione replied.

"He was a snatcher, or at least, paid to be one." Esme said, pointing to a section on her map in Islington, "He's a con-artist and a thief. But he's no coward and he can be a good source, for a price. He'll be here, on a street called Highbury Cres. There's a park on that street which will be holding an annual faire. All I have to do is confirm."

"What does he want?" Hermione asked.

"Information. Nothing I can't handle." Esme said, looking at her.

"Is he a squib?" Hermione asked her.

Esme shook her head, "No, actually, just a muggle. As far as he knew, he was simply smuggling goods between cities. He didn't know who he was initially working for until the muggle police exposed Pyrites. He still doesn't know Pyrites was a wizard."

"'Pyrites...I've heard that name before." Harry started.

"One of the original Death Eaters." Hermione said quickly, " Muggle police detained him for being a serial killer, but then he disappeared from his holding cell. His current whereabouts are unknown."

"When is our... _your_...first meet?" Harry said, looking at Esme.

"Weatherly's waiting on guard at the moment. I'd presume this coming weekend, when it's most busy over there. It'll be during the day, crowds are preferable for him."

Harry shook his head, "I don't like this. The damned Death Eaters don't give a shit about how many people they kill or where they do it. It's a perfect setting."

"The department has been at its peak for years, now, ever since Robards took over. Everyone is working 'round the clock." Hermione told Harry, but he shook his head still. She continued, "The dark wizards are unorganised. We have the upper hand."

"They are also not Death Eaters, anymore." Malfoy supplied, looking dark, "They're a new generation of dark wizards, those that do not have a plan."

"Making them more dangerous." Harry argued.

"And messy." Esme countered. Harry stared at her. Esme sighed and continued, "I was working underground for a long time, remember, among both the old and new generations. These...children...they do not have the discipline. Hermione's right, at the moment, your department is keeping them at bay."

"For the moment." Harry conceded, his eyebrows narrowing, "Alright, alright, we can argue about this later. For now, let's keep everyone unharmed."

"I trust all of you to keep us safe. To keep me safe." Esme looked up at Draco and he nodded with the faintest of smiles. Satisfied, Esme looked between Harry and Hermione, "This'll work. Shall I confirm?"

Harry hesitated, then, "Do it."

* * *

There was a small mobile cafe that was set up on the fairegrounds with tables and chairs. Hermione and Harry found themselves sitting by one of the tables, their senses high. They had already set up a Muggle-Repelling Charm, a shield charm, and for good measure, a disillusionment charm. Hermione could see Esme and Draco Malfoy close together, relaxed and talking, as if they were visitors enjoying the faire. She had already placed a small shield charm on them, but Esme didn't want anymore, save suspicions be raised. _They were very good actors_ , Hermione thought, _or they simply were very comfortable with each other_. The corners of Malfoy's mouth seemed to twitch more often, anyway. Hermione smiled to herself then changed her focus to others around her. Her ears were perked up, listening to conversations, waiting for certain keywords. She raised her wand every so often focusing on what she thought was a suspicious looking individual, but nothing yet. She knew Harry was doing the same, but he was far from being as patient as she was.

"Look." Harry suddenly leaned forward and whispered, "I think he's arrived."

Hermione followed Harry's eyes and saw Esme and Draco sitting closely beside each other on a bench, Malfoy's arm around her shoulders. Another man arrived, wearing a track suit and dark sunglasses. With one hand he placed a bottle of water on the bench beside him, then raised one foot on the bench as if bending down to tie his shoelaces. Both Hermione and Harry raised their wands and focused on the three of them. Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see Esme in her element. While still acting as a loving couple, Esme and Malfoy seem to barely move their mouths. Weatherly was the same.

"'Ey, love, Malfoy." Weatherly started, as he untied, then tied his shoe.

"Weatherly, you alright?" Esme started, seemingly playing with Draco's hair, but her attention on her informant.

"Fine, love." Weatherly said, now moving so that he was sitting on the bench, one hand opening the water bottle and taking a gulp. He let out a satisfied exhale and spoke a bit louder, "Don wi' vat paper, mate?"

Draco reached on his lap and handed a newspaper over. Weatherly took it and opened the paper on his lap. He continued to look through it as he spoke, "Ah, Esme, yer the best."

"So, what's new?" Esme started, leaning into Draco.

"Down to business, eh?" Weatherly said with a chuckle. He continued staring at the paper, switching pages every so often, "I 'eard by the docks in Wales, a man was comin' in by ship. Smugglin somefin', dunno wha' i' was."

"This helps us how?" Esme asked, her head now on Draco's shoulder.

Weatherly turned a page, and straightened up his paper, "Recognised one of the men thas helpin' wiv a boa', you see? He don' remembe' me, bu' I know 'im. Not a goo' guy. Anyway, he's been mentionin' a name, Riddle."

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances before their eyes turned back to the conversation. Weatherly continued, "There's some talk abou' a house up in Li'le Hangleton. Apparen'ly it's been abandoned for years. A perfec' place for drops. There ain't many switches, bu' I know these smugglers, and they're damn good at they jobs, love."

"'Riddle'." Malfoy said casually, "Why Little Hangleton? It's far out of the way, isn't?"

"There's somfin' funny about 'at house, haunted. That bloke I used ta work for, Pyrites, he was held up dere for awhile. He's since been gone. Don' know where."

"Okay." Esme said, smiling at Malfoy, his face mimicking hers, "Anything else?"

"Tha's all I know," Weatherly said, standing up and walking toward the rubbish bin to drop the paper, "Thanks for this, dove. You be careful, yea? Malfoy?"

"You, too, Par." Esme said and sighed, waiting for Weatherly as he continued on his run. Neither she nor Malfoy moved until Weatherly was far from view.

Harry and Hermione lowered their wands and stared at each other, neither was sure what to say.

* * *

"Fuck!" Harry hissed angrily, pacing around the room of Grimmuld Place Number 12, "Fuck. _Fuck_."

"Harry-" Hermioned started, but then stopped. There was no point in trying to stop him, he needed to get it all out. Esme and Draco were also in the room, watching Harry. Draco showed no emotion on his face but Esme stared, concerned.

"Fuck, Hermione." Harry said, finally slowing down. He turned to look at her, his face livid, "I thought we were done. I thought we were done with this fucking bastard. This _fucking_ family! I thought we were _done_."

Hermione waited until Harry stopped cursing and pacing. He finally settled by leaning on the table, his arms crossed, his eyes staring hard at the floor. His jaw was working and a strong vein was pumping on his neck.

"Look, Harry, we might be." Hermione said, gently, moving over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. Harry let her, but he didn't seem any calmer, "That's just one lead, it might be completely useless, just a bunch of criminals taking advantage of an abandoned house. We have three more contacts, right?"

Esme nodded her head, "Yes, and we can do all of this again. It worked perfectly, today."

"We'll take precautions, anyway." Harry finally said, looking up again. He was still angry, but his voice a dangerous steady calm. He closed his eyes briefly and opened them, thinking, "We need to stay vigilant. Just because we have the upper hand now, doesn't mean we'll have the upper hand tomorrow."

"I'll set up the next contact." Malfoy replied, softly, "It might be a few weeks. He can be...difficult to get a hold of."

* * *

Hermione stretched and yawned. She was sitting on her couch, staring at the files in front of her. A bottle and glass of wine sitting beside them, the bottle empty. Hermione looked up to see the time and saw how late it was. Hermione knew better, but she was still hoping Ron would be by the couch, kiss her on the head, and tell her to come to bed. Hermione gathered her knees under her and sighed as she reached for glass and drained it.

"That bottle's finished, love." Esme said, calling to her from the kitchen, "Want another?"

"Uh...go on, then." Hermione said, not wanting to sleep just yet.

Hermione saw Esme come by again, another bottle of wine in her hand. She sat beside Hermione and opened the bottle with a corkscrew. The bottle popped open and she began to pour, "You need a break, love. Relax."

"I know." Hermione said, rubbing her eyes. She reached for her now filled glass and clinked with Esme before taking a sip, "You ready for tomorrow?"

Tomorrow night, the four of them were going to meet up with one of Draco's contacts, at the Isle of Eyes, by the bridges. Well, two of them, Harry and Hermione will stay in the background as planned.

Esme inhaled deeply and looked at her over her own glass, "I suppose. I don't like this one."

"Why?" Hermione asked her, eyebrows furrowing.

"The contact is alright, I suppose, but the place, it's fidgety and I'm not sure if we can trust it. Draco trusts his contact, at least a little bit, but...I dunno, I don't like it. The area we're meeting in is a place full of muggle gangs that fight for territory at night. It's...an unusual place."

"You think it's unsafe?"

"Well, all of this is unsafe," Esme replied, frowning, "but it feels like a trap."

"Why didn't you say anything before?" Hermione said, looking at her.

"Because, I trust Draco. This is _his_ contact, and he's never failed before. It might just be simple paranoia. It has been awhile since I've done this." Esme's eyes grew dark, "Bloody Harry Potter."

Hermione smiled at her, "You're quite upset with him, aren't you?"

"Yes." Esme blurted out forcefully, "Yes, I am."

Hermione laughed.

"I got out of this business for a reason. A lot of my contacts have disappeared, and word on the street, is that I'm not to be trusted." Esme sighed as she drained her glass. Hermione reached over for the bottle and poured her friend another.

"Truthfully, you're not."

"Shut up, you." Esme said, glaring at her, "Do you realise how difficult it's been for me to get back in the game? I'm with Draco, which helps a little, but it also makes more shrewd people cautious around him. Which _hurts_ him. Luckily, Malfoy knows how to keep a straight face and can tell a very convincing story."

"I bet you like working with him again." Hermione said, teasingly.

"Of course, I do." Esme said, looking at her, "I've had a crush on him since I met him, that bastard. You know that."

"Anything come of it?"

"No, sadly not. I think he's shy. Or cautious."

"He isn't like he used to be." Hermione said, thoughtfully, "He wouldn't have given you the time of day. Hated you, even."

"Well, I'm used to the hate part, but he won't even give me that!"

They laughed.

The two continued their conversations until Esme had to go home. Hermione was still up, hours after Emse left. Finally, she stretched and stood up, looked at the messy table for a moment, then walked away, she'd clean up tomorrow; she was far to drunk. Hermione went into her bedroom, walked across it and turned into her bathroom. She leaned into the shower and turned on the faucet. She then undressed, throwing her dirty clothes aside before pulling down her towel from its rack and placing it over the shower door. Hermione enjoyed the hot water falling down her back. The shower was a place of solace for her, it was where she did her best thinking. And think she did, all the time: about Ron, about work, about Ron...Finished, Hermione dressed into sleep clothes and crawled into bed, missing Ron. Without meaning to, she cried herself to sleep.


	3. Failure Will Never Overtake

Grimmauld Place was often quiet at night. Tonight was not any different. It seemed even the frogs and crickets that often sung during a moonlight avoided the street. There were some sounds, but they were often muffled and hidden inside the flats that lined the street. Number 12 was just the same, but muggles were not even aware of it. They didn't know Number 12 even existed, just accepted that mistakenly, the numbers 11 and 13 were beside each other.

"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice. The wards are already in affect." Draco Malfoy said as Hermione and Harry apparated into the living room again. Esme was already waiting, leaning against the desk, her arms crossed. She wasn't looking too pleased, "I have some...unfortunate news."

"What is it?" Harry asked, looking at him, suspiciously.

"My contact has changed."

"What? Why?" Harry asked swiftly.

"Changed?" Hermione asked, looking at him then Esme, then back to Draco, "What do you mean?"

"It was a last minute choice, made not by me." Malfoy explained, looking more serious and more grave than usual, "And he will only do business if I am by myself. I will be unable to bring Esme along, but it also means that it will not bode well if you are seen or using magic."

A pause.

"Your contact is a wizard." Harry responded, slowly, looking at Malfoy angrily, "I thought all your contacts were muggles."

"They were." Malfoy agreed, "But my original contact has been killed. Something has happened, and plans have changed. "

"How can you possibly know that?" Harry asked him slowly.

Draco hesitated looking at him, then sighed. Slowly, he reached for his left arm, unbuttoned his sleeve and pushed it up toward his elbow. Hermione felt her stomach sink and could feel Harry's fury beside her. Both of them were more than familiar with the tattoo on Malfoy's forearm. The Dark Mark, the brand Voldemort used to signify his power and control over the followers of his inner most circle. The tattoo stayed a dull red when all was quiet, black meant the mark had been activated. After Voldemort's death, the Dark Mark faded into a visible scar. Neither Hermione or Harry had actually seen Malfoy's but it was always suspected; it was understood that Voldermot forced the brand onto Draco, along with his father, Lucius's, blessing. Malfoy never spoke about it. Hermione swollowed as she looked down because at that moment, Draco's scar was very visible and very black.

Esme was now beside Malfoy, her eyes wide as she stared at his ghastly tattoo.

"What. The. Fuck?" Harry hissed, eyeing Malfoy's arm with deep bitterness.

"How long has this been happening?" Hermione asked, looking at the Mark, then Draco's indecipherable face.

"Last night." Malfoy said softly, his voice dull. Hermione looked at him, his grey eyes fixated on his arm, "I felt it in my sleep. This...burning sensation that I haven't felt in...I didn't think I'd ever feel it again."

Hermione felt her thoughts bringing her back, back, back to those terrible days, to all the worry, and anger, and deaths. It was happening all over again. Voldermort, alive? _No, no, that was impossible_ , Hermione thought, _it's been confirmed_. He's dead. He's dead, he can't back from the dead. It's impossible. All the magic in the world wasn't going to bring him back. Voldermort isn't back. This...this was something else, something worse. Hermione looked at Harry, and he seemed to be thinking the same way Hermione was. He finally looked up at Hermione and both silently confirmed that Voldermort was indeed dead, but something else was trying to take his place.

"Right, this is a Protean Charm, it's simple magic." Hermione began, thinking aloud as she looked away from the Mark and started to pace; it helped get her thoughts in order, "Any school witch or wizard can effectively work one out, should they practice it. So, this means either someone is playing some sick game, or they're trying to start a panic...or a powerful Dark Wizard is really on the loose..."

"Causing a panic would effectively work." Harry said, looking at her, "But, only a witch or wizard would know what this is. Most of Voldemort's inner circle are in Azkaban. Unless..."

Draco saw Harry watching him but shook his head, as he buttoned the sleeve of his shirt, again, "My father is...a coward. He will not be leaving the prison any time soon. The others are still all accounted for."

"Except Pyrites." Esme spoke up, slowly.

The four of them looked at each but Harry shook his head, "Who is your contact?"

"A wizard. A ...presumed Dark Wizard, I'm sure." Malfoy said, placing his hands in his trouser pockets, frowning, "This burn proves it."

"Wait, wait, we're forgetting something." Hermione started, "How do you know your muggle contact is dead?"

"This." Esme said, reaching into her shoulder bag. She pulled out a muggle newspaper and opened it to a certain page. Finding it, she placed it on the table and pointed to a small story on the corner of the left page, "Jake Appleby-drug addict, drug supplier, local muggle police informant. That was Draco's contact."

"An alias, actually, but that's him. He died around the same time I received the burn." Malfoy explained, his jaw working as he stared at the paper darkly. "Hmm."

"What?" Esme asked him.

"The others, that have the Mark, they will have felt it, too..."

"Shit." Harry said, folding his arms. He starting biting his tongue as he thought, "Maybe it _is_ Pyrites. Don't you know who that is?"

Malfoy shook his head, his silver hair falling over his face, "I don't recognise that name, and my father made sure I knew the members of Voldermort's followers-the important ones, anyway."

" _Shit_." Harry spat.

There was silence, then Malfoy broke it, "If it is a Dark Wizard, if he knew Voldemort and worked closely with him, he will know who I am. He will know who I work for. What I do. But...I believe this will be our best chance, and out best lead."

"I agree." Harry said, looking at Malfoy seriously.

Hermione did too, and nodded her head.

Esme, however, did not.

"What?" Esme started, looking between the three of them. No one said anything and she continued, "No, this isn't alright. You are effectively walking into a trap, Draco. You know this is a trap, right? One Dark Wizard in the middle of gang territory. What makes you think they're not Dark Wizard themselves?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if they were." Malfoy told her, his tone gentler, "I know it's a trap, and I know that this could turn worse with each passing moment. However, I will not go unprepared. Harry and Hermione are both powerful and effective. They will be on guard."

Harry looked at Malfoy, "When are you to meet?"

"Tomorrow night, as planned. I am to send a signal once I've agreed to the change. Not from here, by the bridge, somewhere." Draco said quickly, "I will not run the risk of having this place traced."

"Right." Hermione started, looking at Esme, whose face was becoming angrier by the moment, "Would you mind bringing out that map again? We need to figure out an effective plan."

Esme glared at everyone in the room, and grudgingly pulled out her map and placed it on the table, over the newspaper. The four of them crowded around around the map, and Esme lifted the pages to the correct borough.

"I will need to feign ignorance." Malfoy started, staring at the map, "You two must find a place well-hidden."

Hermione looked at the map and had an idea, "Wait, it would be better to..."

Hermione lifted her wand, and pointed it at the map. The map floated a few centimetres in the air for a few seconds and quivered. It paused and then began to change. The intricate drawings of flat buildings and mountains began to lift off the page in monochromatic colour, standing themselves upright on top of the page. The details of the map allowed for the four of them to notice alleys, shops, and even tiny numbers written on the buildings. The small streams and rivers fell over the page, disappearing before they could touch the table.

"Wow." Esme whispered, her anger, momentarily forgotten.

"Amazing, Hermione." Harry said, staring at it. He nodded his head and exhaled. "This is perfect."

Draco pointed at the map at his wand at a port beside the London Eye. From the tip of his wand, a black figure representing a human being appeared, landing on the wooden dock. It began to pace up and down the dock, tiny golden words spelling out "Malfoy" strayed over the small figure's head, "This is where I'm meeting the contact. It's a bright location and very open. Not many places to escape to, should I need it."

"We'll have to find places to hide, then," Hermione said, studying the map, "somewhere we can safely see you, and jump to rescue..."

"Understand you cannot be seen, at all." Draco replied, quickly, looking at Harry and Hermione, "If I am to feign ignorance, I cannot be surrounded by Ministry wizards, above all Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."

"We won't just let you walk into a potential death sentence." Harry said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You are not." Malfoy answered with a grim chuckle, "You forget I have become rather skilled, myself."

"Still," Hermione started, standing straight and crossing her arms, thinking quickly of defensive measures, "all of this makes me uncomfortable. We'll need to think of illusion charms and spells for us and you."

"If this is a Dark Wizard, and I do believe we are in agreement of that," Malfoy began, looking between Harry and Hermione, "magic will not be a good defence. They will also have defensive and magic surrounding them. They will have planned for this. We must think more effectively, like them."

"This is ridiculous!" Esme finally yelled, looking at the three of them, incredulously as she threw her hands in the air. They turned their heads to look at her, "Why are you going through with this? There are two other contacts we can speak to. Why must this be the one you need? You are all going to get yourselves killed!"

"This has become our best lead, Esme." Hermione said, grimly, looking at her, "The fact a Dark wizard has decided to show himself proves that something has happened. That can prove Ron's death was no accident. That Harry's theory is correct. We can't let that go."

"And die in the process?" Esme said, in a dangerous, low voice. Esme was not a very tall woman, but her ability to seem quite intimidating could be almost comparable to Molly Weasely. Her face was very calm, but Hermione knew Esme well enough to see how very angry she was, "How is that an effective plan? The three of you cannot possibly deal with whoever will be trolling that bridge. Muggles with guns and knives or mad wizards with wands. You are going to get hurt."

"We have to do this." Hermione said, looking at her.

"No, what you need to do, is ask Robards for help." Esme replied, "Get help from your department. You can't just go on your own."

"It isn't concrete enough." Harry said shaking his head, looking at the map and waving his wand around. There were small golden "x's" in various places on the map, indicating areas around the dock to where Hermione and himself might hide, "Robards would never go for it. He's already told each of us to lay off. He's been keeping a close eye on us since then. We just need proof to show him. Then, he'll change his mind. I know he will."

"And, if the information Draco receives is accurate, the whole Auror department will be involved."

Esme had her arms crossed and biting the side of her mouth. She was staring intently at the map, and seemingly thinking very hard. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but would then change her mind and think better of it, again and again. Hermione knew that look too. Esme was about to go against her better judgement and she hated being in that position. Esme was cautious and often shrewd. Jumping into dangerous situations was not a preferable circumstance, but she was running into wall after wall.

"Esme." Hermione started. Esme looked at her for a moment, then sighed. When she didn't say anything, Hermione continued, "You know something. Tell us."

Esme grunted than frowned, leaning toward the map. She raised a finger and pointed under the dock of the London Eye, "Not many people know this, but underneath the Ferris Wheel are a few loose panels of wood. One of them leads into some of the machinery for the Wheel, another is a shortcut into a subway for maintenance workers. And the other one is a place muggle drug dealers keep their stash. It's small and cramped, but big enough to fit someone small."

Harry used his wand to place a golden "x" under the Eye and narrowed his eyebrows, "The Eye is off during the night, right? I can sit on one of the cars wearing my invisibility cloak. It's perfect. Hermione will be below waiting for the right moment, and I'll be up...top." Another gold "x" floated from Harry's want to a wheel car on the paper London Eye and sat, like a beacon. Two more black figures flew from Hermione's wand into the map, showing the positions of herself and Harry, crouched.

"It looks good." Hermione said, surveying the map again. It was the best they can do. "Let's also agree that this living room is where we meet before and after. Should we need to, we will apparate here, then proceed."

"Good idea." Harry replied with a nod.

Draco gave a nod.

"Good."

"Well, don't expect me to stay in the bloody sidelines." Esme said suddenly, looking at the three of them. No one said anything. Esme grunted, "You do."

"Magic can easily overtake a gun, no matter how good you are." Hermione said gently.

"Don't patronise me, I know." Esme replied with a sigh, "I still think this is a terrible idea. Tell me _as soon_ as you learn something."

* * *

Hermione was sweating. It was hot and cramped, just as Esme had warned. She hadn't been in this position for very long, but she could already feel how much sore her back and legs were going to be in the morning. Hermione tried to peer through the cracks above her, but couldn't see much. She only heard the soft steps of Malfoy's boots as he walked back and forth. She knew Harry was directly waiting above him, looking down, waiting. She had been counting time in her head. Draco's contact was supposed to have arrived already. This was a tactical move; make the other party nervous. Still, it was difficult to make Malfoy nervous anymore, he just wasn't like he used to be.

There was a sudden rhythm of soft taps from above, the bastard was here. Hermione took in a deep breath and relaxed herself, remembering her training. Malfoy had positioned himself right off to the side of Hermione, knowing where she was. She heard another sound, heavy, long footsteps, almost an arrogant stride in their movement. It stopped just a few paces from Malfoy, but not close enough for Hermione to pinpoint where the contact was.

"Draco Malfoy. It is a pleasure." A smooth voice spoke up. It was deep and cold, but he sounded young.

"You have me at a disadvantage." Draco Malfoy replied, quickly, his voice steady and calm.

There was a slight pause, then, "Webb. Ryan Webb. I'm surprised you haven't heard of me."

"Should I have?" Malfoy responded, unimpressed.

There was another pause, longer. Webb spoke again, "No, I suppose not. You've spent all your time running around with _muggles_ , the filthy animals.

 _Typical,_ Hermione thought bitterly. Her neck was starting to strain from looking up but she didn't dare move. Her wand was raised and poised for the slightest sign of malevolence.

"And...as I understand it, the Ministry of Magic? A double agent perhaps?"

Malfoy did not respond and Webb continued, his voice cocky and daring, "I know all about your Draco Malfoy. Your time at Hogwarts, your...relationship with the Dark Lord. I must admit, I'm quite jealous."

 _Did he know of Draco's involvement with the ministry?_ Hermione questioned silently. She closer her eyes briefly, feeling sweat fall down her forehead. Her wand in her hand, she positioned it up, toward the floorboards.

Malfoy stayed silent and Webb continued.

"Are you surprised I know so much? I've studied the Dark Lord's movements from the beginning. His family, his followers, his deaths..."

A long silence, then Malfoy spoke, "You are wasting my time. Why did you kill Appleby?"

"The muggle?" Webb asked slowly, "Why do you care?"

"He was _my_ contact." Malfoy said taking one step forward, his voice low and threatening, "He was the _muggle_ I had a deal with. How _dare_ you interfere."

Hermione could see Webb taking a step back as Malfoy rounded on him. As soon as Malfoy stopped, Hermione could hear Webb taking in a deep quavering breath and cleared his throat. The fist around her wand tightened.

"He was a liar and a threat to my plan." Webb began, his voice in a forced steady.

"What plan?" Malfoy asked slowly.

"To bring back the Dark Lord."

Hermione felt her stomach flip and swallowed as she continued listening.

"The Dark Lord is dead." Malfoy replied shortly.

"Ah, that's where you are wrong. The Dark Lord is all around us. He was will always be around us." Webb's voice was full of an insane admiration, "Did you not feel the Dark Mark on your arm, Draco? I know you did. _I_ did that. Want to know how?"

"Any _child_ could learn to use a Protean Charm."

Webb was silent, then Hermione heard a soft footsteps moving toward her position. She looked up, trying to peer through the wood. Draco was still standing off to the side, a bit further away than she liked, but she could still see him. Another set of footsteps were making their way around Malfoy's position, giving him a wide berth. Hermione let out a soft breath and waited, sweat now falling freely down her neck.

"Do you remember the way Lord Voldemort branded your arm, Malfoy?" Webb asked, his voice full of arrogance as he continued his walk, "Did you remember the pain? The overwhelming power? The anger?"

Hermione heard the sound of teared fabric.

"Do you see it, Malfoy? Do you see what I have done? For years I've worked, and slaved, and I've finally achieved my goal." Webb whispered almost insanely, "I've called on the darkest forces and this is only the beginning. There will be much more, much more, and you, Draco Malfoy, have the honour of being my first."

There was sudden burst of mad, maniacal laughter and it took a moment for Hermione to realise it was coming from Malfoy.

"You-" started Malfoy, his voice low and threatening that sounded unmistakably like Severus Snape. Hermione felt a shiver, "are nothing but a sniveling, pre-pubescent _boy_ whom has no understanding of the Dark Arts or Lord Voldermort or anything else beneath the bundimun's own understanding of its own rot. You have wasted my time and I will not tolerate those that waste my time."

There was a tense silence, then a sudden deep rumble sounded over Hermione's head, the floorboards rattling against each other. There was a sudden cry and a grunt as a body hit the ground a ways from where Hermione was crouching. She could see Draco's quick footsteps walking toward the fallen object.

"How dare you use Legilimency on me, idiot child." Malfoy spat angrily, "How dare you presume you can peruse my mind like an open book! Do not forget, I was with the Dark Lord at his height. I was the youngest to be part of his inner circle. I was his protégé. Do not think you can use me as your puppet. Do you understand?"

A pause. Another voice, off of Webb's arrogance had all bust disappeared. "Y-yes."

Hermione waited and listened, her heart beating against her chest. She had no idea what was happening, but she could feel the situation tensing. She daren't use her wand just yet. Giving away her position and Harry's would ruin everything. All she could do was wait, and her usual patience was wearing thin. Something was going to happen.

Hermione could hear footsteps walking toward her again. She looked up and could see through the slits of the floorboards, Malfoy's shoes taking light steps back to his original position. However, before he even reached Hermione, an angry scream from behind him and a flash of white. Hermione heard Malfoy let out a pained yell.

" _Shit._ " Hermione pushed the trapdoor over her head and through her wand came a massive ball of blinding light. She hoped to heaven above Webb did not see her jump out.

Hermione reached for Malfoy as best as she could in the bright light, pulling his arm over her shoulders. She could feel something stick and wet in her hands. _Fuck!_ , Hermione thought. There was no time to waste. She waved her wand and apparated right into St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

It was there in the light she could see how bad Malfoy's wounds were. There was giant gash down his back and he was bleeding non-stop, as if someone had taken a giant sword and slashed it right through him. He was making no sound and she couldn't tell if he was breathing.

"Hermione Granger!"

Hermione looked up and saw a familiar and welcoming face, rushing toward her with other healers right behind her.

"Oh darling, you're bleeding all over." Madame Pomfrey exclaimed, reaching for her and for Malfoy, "Is this Draco Malfoy? What happened?!"

"Poppy, his bleeding isn't stopping." Hermione started, trying hold Draco up.

"Come on you, lot." Pomfrey said, looking at the healers. She looked over at the gash and winced, seemingly recognising the wound. "Fourth Floor. Now!" The healers lifted Malfoy's bleeding body onto a bed and the five of them apparated with a bang.

"Hermione, dear, are you alright. Are you bleeding anywhere? Is this yours?"

"No, no, this isn't my blood." Hermione gasped, feeling the adrenaline. She took a deep breath, her thoughts leading to Harry, "Harry..is still..."

"Harry? Harry Potter?" Pomfrey asked, staring at Hermione.

Another bang and Hermione looked up to see Harry pulling off his cloak. He saw Hermione and Pomfrey, his eyes wide, sweat on his face, his face a mix of anger and fear, "Where's Malfoy?"

"Upstairs." Pomfrey said, looking at Harry. "I know that wound, he'll be fine."

Harry nodded, knowing Madame Pomfrey's word was good. He looked at Hermione, "Are you..."

"It isn't mine." Hermione said, shaking her head, "We need to find Robards, Harry."

"His home." Harry agreed.

* * *

"The bloody _fuck_ did you three think you were doing?" Robards said, looking between Harry and Hermione.

Harry and Hermione apparated right at their Chief's door and knocked on it until he had come down, his wand in his fist. He was quite angry when he saw them and became even angrier when the two of them explained to him what they had been doing for the past few months. Hermione had only seen him this upset when a rather brutal serial killer of muggles had been captured then released for lack of evidence. What the wizard had done to the muggles was frightening and Hermione could understand how Robards was feeling at the time. All Hermione had to do was picture her own parents.

"I told you not do this." Robards hissed at the both of them as they stood in his living room. Robards's wife had come in with cups of tea then ceremoniously, but politely, kicked out, "I've told _all_ of you not to be involved in this anymore."

"Sir-" Harry started.

"No. What's done is done." Robards said, glaring at Harry. He sighed then and rubbed his hands against his face, "Where's Draco, now?"

"St. Mungo's." Hermione said quickly, "He's being taken care of."

"Right, we need to act quickly, then. Harry, round up everyone from the Order. Everyone! Young, old, I don't care. Find _everyone_."

Harry gave a nod and apparated on the spot. Robards started to pace, his mind racing.

"Hermione, find more information on this Appleby character and anyone else he knew; friends, clients, his whole bloody family tree. I need to contact the muggle police and Shacklebolt."

"Yes, sir." Hermione said and apparated.

* * *

 _So, just out of curiosity, is the whole "Ron dead" not a good premise for the story?_  
 _I've become rather spoiled with the rest of my stories, and I'm saddened to see this one being not so popular._


	4. The Beginning was All Black and White

For a long time, Hermione had thought that she was a muggle. She didn't even know what the word "muggle" meant if she hadn't received a letter explaining to her that she was actually a witch and would be attending the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. More importantly, she knew how to act like a muggle, even during holiday from school. Now, though, she was nervous. Logically, Hermione knew that being a "muggle" would simply come naturally to her; it was simple-don't use magic. But, even as she stepped off the Tube and made her way out of the station, she so wanted to whip out her wand and apparate wherever she needed to go. She was annoyed by the crowds and the wait and just the people, themselves. Everyone was always pushing, always in a hurry. Hermione was also aware that if muggles knew about magic, there would definitely be a tremendous bedlam that would never be resolved. It would be best if muggles continued on their daily lives, completely unaware.

Hermione walked the necessary steps to make her way toward the nearest police station. It had been several long rides and she wanted to take as many precautions as necessary, which meant dealing with muggle money, switching stations, being aware of which direction to go to when figuring out the maze that is the London Underground, and, well, being a muggle again. Still, even though she had been over and underground for several hours, she couldn't help but be nostalgic and remember her younger days. The care-free ones when she didn't even know what magic was. Oftentimes, it made her grateful-she had an innate skill and she was quite good at it. Sometimes, she felt bitter- blaming it for not really having parents anymore.

Hermione never did restore her parents' memory, again. It wasn't a decision she made lightly, either. After Voldermort's fall and the capture of (most) of the Death Eaters, Hermione wanted to go back to Australia and find her parents again, she did. Hermione had gotten off the plane, hailed a taxi, and had her driver drop her off right in front of the house. Hermione knocked on the door and after it opened, there stood her father. This wonderful man she had known all her life. Hermione always thought he was a handsome man and had a beautiful smile. He was also very kind. For when Hermione laid eyes on him, she began to cry and it was very difficult for her to stop. Her father, or Wendell Wilkins, led her inside and sat her down at their table. His wife, Monica Wilkins, had already placed a cup of tea in front of her. Hermione very quickly made up a story of how this used to be her childhood home and how her family had left suddenly because of a death in the family and how she missed them so. Her parents, or the Wilkins's, sat with her and listened, their hands touching her in comfort, hands she was so familiar with, and this made her cry even more.

Eventually, Hermione managed to stop, her tears drying on her cheeks. The Wilkins's were gentle, asking her questions about her childhood, what the passed family member was like, how tragic everything must have seemed. Then, they mentioned a peculiar story. Sometime after Hermione had placed the false memory into her parents' minds, a man had come to their door. Hermione's parents described him as a tall man who looked very unpleasant. He had long blond hair that he often tied back behind his head. Hermione's stomach gave a flip when she heard this story, wondering if it were Lucius Malfoy. Wendell went on to say that the tall man introduced himself as Yaxley and was looking for someone called Hermione. This was when Hermione made her decision. Her work, Hermione's very job, was dangerous. Everyone she knew would be in danger. The only people in her life that were always going to be unable to defend themselves were her parents.

Hermione often struggled with whether she was being fair to them, if she was being selfish. She had never spoken to anyone about these thoughts, except for one, and the big, blundering idiot only said he would support Hermione no matter what she decided. God, she loved Ron so much, but he was also very frustrating. Hermione always pushed the thoughts back in her mind, hoping that eventually she'd get to it. Sometimes, she'd forget, but it was always, always there, waiting for her to decide. The longer she waited, the harder it was going to be. _Still,_ she always thought, _I'll get back to it. When things settle down._

Hermione found herself standing in front of the doors of the Met, she had an appointment with the Chief Inspector, Ewan Oliver. Clearing her throat and positioning her shoulder bag more comfortably on her shoulder, Hermione pushed open the doors and walked inside. The lobby was large with rows of chairs being used by both nervous and agitated people. A few fake plants were positioned here and there, perhaps to make the area look more lively. Hermione raised an eyebrow before turning toward the large, bullet-proof glass. On the other side was a haggard looking woman, busy writing on a pile of paperwork on her desk, and sighing heavily. She had no rank, and must have been hired as a civie.

"Excuse me." Hermione called out, with a smile.

"Can I help you?" The woman started, not bothering to look up. Hermione noted that the name plate on the woman's chest said, "Thorpe".

"I have an appointment with the Chief Inspector. He should be expecting me."

The woman looked up quite suspiciously, "Your name?"

"Lily Bartlett." Hermione said without missing a beat and brought up her ID against the glass.

The woman grunted as she reached a large diary on her desk. She opened it up, and with a pencil, she moved down the page of a list of names and finally stopped, muttering, "Lily Bartlett."

"Alright, love." The woman started, speaking up and looking at Hermione. She stood up and walked over to her left and disappeared momentarily. Hermione heard a door open and turned to see the woman, Thorpe, waiting for her, "Come on in, I'll show you the way."

"Thank you." Hermione said, walking past the woman.

Thorpe made a sound of consent and walked ahead of Hermione, making her way down a long, dreary hallway, pass several offices and finally into an open area. Many desks have been lined together, all of them occupied and very busy. No unlike the Auror Office, there was a caucus of telephones ringing, officers discussing cases, people running around. There was just the lack of, well, magic. Thorpe continued leading Hermione toward a lift and she pushed the "up" button. The two stepped inside and Thorpe pressed the number 4.

"So, were are you coming from, love?" Thorpe started.

"Haxley." Hermione lied, giving Thorpe a smile.

"Haxley." Thorpe repeated, questioningly, "Long way for you, isn't it?"

"Following a lead, really. It's been taking me all over the country, but it's going to be another dead-end. Wouldn't be surprised if the next one was in Spain or somewhere."

"Hmm, oh dear, I understand." Thorpe said with a knowing nod, "You'll get him, love."

"Thanks." Hermione said as the lift doors opened.

The doors opened to another open room, just as chaotic as the first floor and the two of them walked to another office, a corner office and Thorpe rapped her knuckles on the door. Before an answer was given, she opened it up and leaned in.

"A Lily Bartlett here to see you."

"Thanks, Sophie." A deep voice replied.

Thorpe gave Hermione a nod and walked away. Hermione stepped in and noticed the large windows that surrounded the office. It was quite a view, being this high up and for once, the sky was quite clear. She turned her head to see a slightly older black man behind the desk. The nameplate on his desk said "Chief Inspector, Ewan Oliver". He had been busy reading a muggle newspaper and drinking what looked like a large cup of coffee. He had spilled some recently and was busy using a napkin to wipe up the mess he made on his shirt.

"Oh, uh," Oliver said, smiling sheepishly at Hermione. He dropped the napkin on his desk and wiped his hands together he reached for Hermione's hand and shook it. They felt cold, "Sorry about this, I can be dreadfully clumsy. Ewan Oliver, pleasure to meet you."

"Lily Bartlett." Hermione started retreating her hand. Oliver motioned her to a seat across from him and she took it, "It's alright, no need to apologise."

"So, Bartlett," Oliver started, sitting back down on his chair and reaching for a file and opening it, "I understand that you come here from Haxley, correct? After a lead?"

"Yes, sir." Hermione replied, pulling out her own file from her shoulder bag. She handed it over to Oliver, "You might know that I'm trying to find out more about information on Jake Appleby, an alias. We believe he has a connection to someone we're after, a man called Pyrites."

"Pyrites." Oliver said out-loud, staring at the file Hermione handed him, his eyes moving scanning over the pages.

"Do you know that name, sir?"

"No, I don't recognise it, but I am familiar with Jake Appleby." Oliver let out a sigh and handed the file he had beforehand. Hermione took it and opened it. Oliver continued, "His real name was Charles Bray. He was abused when he was a child and taken from his parents when he was about six years of age. He was a runaway for most of his young life and turned to crime soon after. He's been in and out of jail for most of his life. He had been an informant of this office for about three years before he died. It's a shame."

"What is?"

"He was turning his life around. Trying to, anyway. Every so often he'd have a relapse, but..." Oliver shrugged as if saying "what could anyone do?". Hermione looked back at the file and the photo of Charles Bray. He looked very young. She turned the page to the autopsy report. It said his death was "Unknown".

"You can't determine the cause of death?" Hermione asked, looking at Oliver.

Oliver had a hand to his chin and watching Hermione carefully. He shook his head, "No. Bray was a druggie, but the coroner said he didn't die of an overdose. In fact, he was perfectly healthy, well, beside the fact that he is dead."

Hermione squared her jaw. _Shit_ , she thought, _shit, shit, shit._

"Something wrong?" Oliver asked.

Hermione recovered quickly and shook her head, "No. Do you know who might have killed him?"

"We have some clues." Oliver said, now leaning back in his chair but hadn't taken his eyes off her. Hermione knew Oliver was trying to determine who she was, whether he could trust her. All Oliver knew was that Lily Bartlett worked with the Ministry and was following a lead for a murderer. That's all the information he was given and if he was frustrated, he hid it very well.

Hermione looked up and waited, "Such as?"

Oliver paused, then leaned forward, his arms on his desk, his eyes unwavering, "In the past few months, there have been two other deaths similar to Bray's; all of them criminals, all of them informants. Now, I don't often jump to conclusions, but Bray's death points to a someone who is targeting."

"Why Bray's death, specifically?" Hermione asked.

Oliver's face was indecipherable as he continued to speak, "Charles Bray was a smart man, he was also very street savvy as one in his position should be. But he also had a knack for predicting certain situations, which is why he was so valuable to us. This...something was wrong the day of his death."

Hermione stared, "Do you think he knew he was going to die that day? That he willingly walked into a trap?"

Oliver spread out his hands, "All I know is that Bray had been in similar tight spots and walked out of them with his life still in tact."

"Anyone can make a mistake."

"True." Oliver said, but he didn't sound like he believed it.

"Who were the other victims?"

"A man called Metcalf, Mathew, a convicted felon and arms dealer," Oliver reached over and pulled out a sheet of paper. He handed it to Hermione who took it. Then, Oliver reached for another and placed it in front of Hermione, "and Nash, Baily, a drug smuggler."

Hermione stared at the portraits.

Oliver nodded his head to the files in Hermione's hands, "Those are your copies. Is there anything else you need, Ms. Bartlett?"

Hermione shook her head and stood up. She reached for her shoulder bag and placed the straps on her shoulder, "No, thank you. We'll keep in touch."

"Looking forward to it." Oliver said, standing and shaking Hermione's hand again.

"I'm sure." Hermione said, and walked away, fully aware of the Chief Inspector's eyes boring into her. Thank goodness for Occlumency.

* * *

Hermione apparated into St. Mungo's and headed over to the fourth floor, looking for Draco Malfoy's room. The door was open, but Hermione knocked on the door gently, just in case he was sleeping. Inside, two heads turned to look at her. Esme was already there. It looked as if the two of them were talking quietly, their heads close together. Esme had removed her hand from Draco's and stood up with a wide but tired smile and waited for a hug. Draco gave Hermione a solemn nod and a soft smile. He had a giant bruise on his arm, probably where he had landed on the wood and a bandage over his shoulder. Hermione also noticed that his Dark Mark was gone. Malfoy was sitting oddly, another large bandage on his back.

"I have to thank you, Granger." Malfoy said with a sigh, "You saved my life."

"Of course, Draco." Hermione said, her eyes peering over his wounds. He had been unconscious for the better part of two days. This was the first time he seemed completely aware.

"He says it looks worse than it feels." Esme said, noticing Hermione's face. She reached over to Malfoy and gave his good arm a gentle squeeze, "I think he's just being a bit tough."

Hermione smiled. There was another knock and footsteps and Harry Potter showed up. He looked tired. He walked over to Malfoy and shook his head.

"You alright?"

Malfoy nodded his head and said rather shortly, "Yes. Thank you."

Harry looked as if he was trying to avoid something. He sighed, "That curse..."

The three of them exchanged glances. Only Esme looked confused. Hermione didn't recognise the curse when that stupid idiot screamed it out, but she certainly knew the wound. She had known about it once before and just as luck would have it, this was the second time Malfoy had been the victim of it. Before, it was an accident, this time, it was deliberate.

"I thought..." Harry exhaled and rubbed his hands against his face, "I thought-"

"Get over it, Potter. I'm still here." Malfoy said, frowning, "Compared to what you did, this was merely a tickle."

Harry didn't know how to respond to that. Draco didn't sound bitter, in fact, his voice was almost light, as if he was trying to make a joke. It was a terrible joke if that was what his intention was.

"'A tickle'?" Hermione repeated looking at him, "What do you mean?"

Malfoy looked thoughtful before responding, "Almost as if he wasn't sure. Careful. Cautious. He was very young. Definitely school-age."

"But there was so much blood." Harry said, staring at him.

Malfoy merely nodded.

"That means he's never killed before." Hermione said slowly. Then who killed Charles Bray?

Hermione's thoughts ran over to Draco Malfoy when he was young. Malfoy was behind many of the attempts in attacking the students at Hogwarts during Voldermort's height. Hermione had always regarded Draco as a coward and a bully, because that's all he did, vainly attacking her, Ron, and Harry, multiple times. Insisting on carrying on threats toward them and their friends; he absolutely hated them, there is no contention of that. But, Hermione had come to realise, he was also very calculating. Malfoy will always admit he was a spoiled thug and tormentor, but he never went so far as to deliberately kill someone, or even hurt them grievously. True, he never used to admit to his mistakes, but all the attempts and orders Voldermort had given him were intentionally ingenuous. He hated his parents, he hated their lifestyle. What could a child possibly do in his position? It was all he knew; he had an old reputation he had to keep. So he followed orders, but also changed them. It took a lot of courage for him to finally leave that way of life. Even now, though, it haunts him. True, Harry and Draco will never be friends, but they can certainly be civil.

"What do you mean, Hermione?" Harry asked, looking at her.

"I have some more information." Hermione looked around, then at Draco and Harry, "Though, not here."

Harry nodded, "I just came from Robards' office. He wants us back as soon as we're done."

"Go on." Malfoy said, looking at Harry and Hermione, "Fill me in later."

Harry nodded and apparated.

"Esme, you coming?" Hermione asked her.

Esme shook her head, "No, I can stay."

* * *

Harry was waiting for Hermione when she apparated in the designated area of the Atrium.

"You alright, Harry?" Hermione asked, looking at him, "Have you slept at all?"

"Not really, have you?" Harry and Hermione were making their way toward the lifts and down to the Auror Office.

Hermione shook her head as they reached the lifts. The doors closed but they couldn't talk because people were inside with them. Hermione looked up and saw bits of paper in the air, vibrating as if impatiently waiting for their right floor to open up. There were three stops ahead of them and Harry and Hermione nodded and greeted various people they recognised coming in and out of the lifts. When they finally reached their floor (" _Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services._ "), the two of them stepped out and marched toward the Auror office. Eyes were already on them as they approached Robards office, but they ignored the stares as the continued walking. Office gossip is not unheard of, especially in such a tight-knit community.

Hermione saw Robards office, the door was open. Inside she could already see Robards and a few other people; Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur, Bill, and George Weasley, Sturgis Podmore, Dedelus Diggle, and Elphias Doge. She smiled to herself as she got closer, it would be wonderful seeing them all again. Most have been on holiday or retired. It's a shame they had to meet again on more dire circumstances.

"Hello, everyone." Hermione said walking in. She received a hug from the Weaselys and Diggle, and shook hands with the rest. Harry received the same, "Hope we didn't pull you too far from your retirement."

Doge grunted impassively. Diggle giggled and shook his finger, "For this sort of work, never."

"Close the door, please, Potter." Robards said.

Harry did and Robards raised his wand to muffle the room again. He picked up various files on his desk and opened them. He twitched his wrist again and had the files fly into the air and form a slow, rotating circle for everyone to see. Hermione saw Charles Bray along with the photos of Mathew Metcalf and Nash Baily. She swallowed when she saw Ron Weasley's moving portrait and his silly smile. She let out a sigh and blinked, not wanting her emotions to get the better of her. There was another moving photo of someone Hermione didn't recognise, Ryan Webb. She watched Webb sneering at everyone looking at his portrait. He was a child.

"As you might have noticed," Robards started, his hands in his pockets as he nodded at the floating files, "this is an accumulation of both muggles and wizards. Both myself and the Minister have been in touch with the muggle minister and the muggle Metropolitan Police. As of ten months ago, Ronald Weasely was killed in the line of duty. Due to our efforts, especially that of the Order and...three exceptional wizards," Robards almost said that grudgingly. He gave Harry and Hermione each a stern look," we have learned his death was no accident."

As Robards said this, Ron's file separated from the rest and stopped mid-air a few inches from it original place in the circle.

"Now, the three muggles involved," Robards continued, the three muggle files leaving their position as well, "were all muggle police informants, all of them killed. How? According to the muggle coroners, the cause of death was unknown. However, we know better, and we suspect it to be most likely be the Killing Curse."

There was a tense silence, as all eyes followed the muggle files, forming a line underneath Ron's file.

George let out a scoff, "That's a bit jumping the gun, isn't?"

"Yes, it looks that way. But, we also have this young man." Everyone stared at the last remaining file and Webb's young, contemptuous face.

"Who is he?" Arthur asked, frowning at the portrait.

"We don't know. Apart from his name, Ryan Webb, and his believed age. He told Draco Malfoy that his ultimate plan was to bring back Tom Riddle."

"He's dead." Harry said, stonily. Hermione didn't have to look to see how angry Harry was.

"That little prick?" Doge suddenly growled from his corner. He looked around the room, before staring hard at Robards, "Who does he bloody think he is? Potter's right, that damned bastard is dead. For good."

"I don't know." Robards shook his head as Webb's file moved in between the muggles' and Ron's. He pointed at Webb as he looked at D, "But he knew Bray. He called him by one of Bray aliases, Jake Appleby. He might have been the one to kill him."

"I don't think he did." Hermione finally spoke up. All eyes turned to her. She shook her head, "When Webb attacked Malfoy, he used a spell that I hadn't heard about since my 6th year of Hogwarts. It was an invented curse and only found in one book."

"What are you talking about, Granger?" Shacklebolt asked her.

"Sectumsempra." Harry muttered. Everyone looked at him. He was looking up, but his eyes were unfocused, as if he was far away.

"What?" Robards asked, confused.

"Sectumsempra." Harry repeated, exhaling and looking at Robards, "Severus Snape invented that curse and had written it in one of his text books, a potions book. It's been confiscated since then. But I was there when Malfoy was attacked two nights ago. I know that curse."

Silence.

"So why is it important that he knew that curse at all?" Diggle squeaked, politely.

"Several reasons." Hermione started, looking at everyone in the room. "First, he used a dangerous curse, yes, but he didn't kill Malfoy. That curse could have easily sliced him in half, and according to Draco, it simply scratched him."

"Malfoy was the victim of this curse before, and it was a lot worse." Harry said, his face indecipherable.

Hermione looked at him for a moment before continuing, "Right. Webb seemed cautious, as if he never hurt anyone before. Bray was killed a few days before Malfoy was supposed to meet with him. Which is why I suspect Webb isn't the murderer."

"That also means that if that...kid...knows that curse, he must have known Snape." Bill started, looking at Hermione, " _Snape_ taught him that?"

"Or he found it by other means." Podmore said softly with a shrug. His long arms were inside of a long, tattered coat. "Even if that book was confiscated, doesn't mean someone else didn't have a go and copy the curse down, themselves."

"So, _someone_ did kill these muggles," Robards said. Out of his wand game a long gold string. It touched Ron's file then moved down to Webb's and finally separated itself into three strings, touching the muggles's files, "and I have a funny suspicion that Webb knows exactly who it is."

"One more thing." Harry started, squaring his jaw, "The Dark Mark is active again."

"What?"

"That's impossible!"

"Eh?"

"Yes." Hermione nodded her head in agreement and there was murmur of curses and aggravated sighs, "Malfoy still has it, and it's been glowing."

"Well, _fuck_." Doge hissed, "I'm getting too old for this _shit_."

"We've reason to suspect that Webb might have been the cause, but he could by lying." Hermione finished. She looked at Robards, "Have you found anything on Pyrites?"

Robards shook his head, "We're still looking, but as far as we can tell, he's been dead since the First Wizarding War. If there's no body, there's no confirmation."

"This means we need to have another long talk with our Azkaban guests. You do know that, don't you?" Doge growled, looking directly at Shacklebolt.

The minister hardly said a word, but he nodded at Doge and grimaced as he spoke in his deep voice, "I'll leave it to you. Get your best."

* * *

 _Would really appreciate comments._


	5. Killing Is Not so Easy for the Innocent

"They found him."

Hermione looked up from her desk, her heart audible in her ears, "Webb?"

Harry nodded his head and swiftly turned on his heels, Hermione close behind. She had been waiting for this moment for four grueling days. In all honesty, she had thought Webb would have been found a lot sooner. He was young and unskilled, but was proving to be fastidious. Doge had no qualms about interrogating those caught and placed into Azkaban, delving into torture if he had to, but even then, extracting any useful information was proving almost impossible. The older, more sophisticated group of Death Eaters knew nothing about Webb or where he had come from, but one thing was common amongst them all: their Dark Marks had all been activated. This either brought hope or pessimism in the group; Lucius Malfoy being one of them. Most were to the point where they knew Voldermort has ceased to be or were too old to care. Only Bellatrix Lestrange had shown some sort of a sign in excitement, but the woman was already half-mad to begin with.

"They're going to reverse-spell his wand first." Harry explained as the two made it to the lifts, Harry jamming a fist to the button that lead them to the lower levels of the basement, "Find out what he's been up to. It should give us some answers."

Hermione stayed silent as the two of them waited until the lift windows opened again to complete darkness. Harry and Hermione stepped off and two faint flicks of blue fire materialised beside them. In front of them was a long hallway of brick and mortar, disappearing into more darkness. Instead of walking forward, Hermione made a sharp right and continued walking, the blue fires vanishing behind them and a new set appearing in front, as if leading the way. Hermione continued walking, almost running, making a series of turns but knowing exactly where to go, Harry's footsteps loud behind her. A few moments later, Hermione found the door she wanted and raised her wand. With a complex flick of her wrist and a silent spell, the door opened with a loud bang, perhaps a bit more enthusiastically than she wanted. Hermione stepped inside to see Doge, Kingsley, and Robards looking at her, their eyes slightly widened.

"You found Webb?" Hermione asked, breathlessly, putting her wand away. She heard Harry shut the door softly behind them. She crossed the tiled ground to the group of three in a rather insignificant room consisting of four walls and a single door leading to another room similar to the one she was standing in. The three men were looking down at a small table in the middle of the room, frowning at a large crystal ball, a light purple haze surrounding the ball.

"Yes." Robards said with a nod and the others looked away. Hermione stood beside Robards and Harry beside her, 5 pairs of eyes staring down into what looked like an abyss in the glass, save for a single light peering in the middle of a darkened room. Webb was standing quietly underneath the light, his head down and was swaying slightly.

"What's wrong with him?" Harry asked.

"A rather strong Confundus Charm." Kingsley supplied, rubbing his eyes as he looked up at Harry, "He'll be that way until we lift it."

"Does he know where he is?"

Kingsley shook his head, "No, he-"

"What did you find on Webb's wand?" Hermione asked, interrupting.

There was a slight pause before Kingsley continued, "Nothing significant. Mainly cloaking spells and protection charms. As you had mentioned, that spell, Sectumsempra, was used only once. And, you were right, Webb has never killed before. Not with this wand, anyway."

"You don't know?" Hermione could feel a fair amount of adrenaline pumping through her.

"We're waiting on Ollivander, Granger." Robards said, crossing his arms, "We'll find out soon enough. But, he's no killer. Although, he did put up quite a struggle."

"Who found him?" Harry asked.

"Arthur and Deadleus." Doge growled, his eyes wavering to look at Harry then turning back to Webb. He let out a sudden bark of laughter, "Say what you want about their age, but I could always depend on them in a fight."

"Why did it take so long to apprehend him?" Hermione asked, staring down at Webb's swaying body. Her heart had sunk when she heard that Webb was not a killer. She had guessed correctly, but that didn't mean Hermione didn't hold off on hope.

"He had help." Robards said, turning to look at Hermione and Harry, a frown on his face, "That's what I wanted to talk to you about before the interrogation started. And you'll never guess from whom. Come along."

Hermione and Harry exchanged glances following Robards through the ordinary door, leaving the others to look back at the confunded Webb. Robards pushed the door with a creak into another empty and ordinary room. There was no table this time, but four walls and a single window looking into yet another room, but smaller and narrower. There was a metal table and three chairs. In one of the chairs facing the glass was a sickly-looking man seemingly very nervous and muttering to himself. He was sweating profusely, perspiration visible through his clothes. His eyes were twitchy, looking this way and that, his hands moving between laying flat on the table, and rubbing them together. Every so often he would stand, take a lap around the table and chairs, then sit back down again. Something about him struck Hermione as very familiar.

"I've seen him before..." Harry commented, repeating Hermione's thoughts.

"A muggle." Hermione whispered. Harry looked at her then back at Robards, "Is that Nash?"

He nodded, "Indeed."

"Nash?" Harry repeated, turning his head to look at Robards then back at Nash, "I thought he was dead."

"We all did." Robards said with a sigh.

"But his body..." Harry started, staring.

"We just got word that the body found was a young man called Liam Reding. His body had an illusionment charm to look like Nash. The muggle coroners chalked it up to extensive plastic surgery. Their police are completely dumbfounded as to why a man with no connection to Nash would go through such a procedure. It's turned out to be quite a mess."

"How did he die?" Harry asked.

"My best guess, the Killing Curse."

Harry scoffed.

"Didn't the magic wear off after a time?" Hermione asked Robards.

"Yes. That's how they found out it was Mr. Reding." Robards grimaced, "An extensive amount of forgetful charms had to be used on the entire Met department. That was quite a feat."

"But why is Nash still alive?" Harry asked, "Isn't he a muggle?"

"I'm sure they did. He's useful, though." Robards shrugged, looking back at Nash. "He's a known criminal heavily into the muggle drug trade and a user himself, but trustworthy, even for an addy. Right now, he's going through terrible muggle drug withdrawal. You can barely recognise him."

Hermione knew this. She might have been a witch, but that didn't mean she wouldn't keep up with the muggle world either. In her line of work, it was necessary. Harry didn't look surprised at this information, either.

"Does he know where he is?" Hermione said, staring at Nash, the man's arms now wrapped around his skinny back as he swayed back and forth, his eyes tightly shut.

Robards shook his head, "No. We tried to mimic the muggle police rooms as much as we could. Percy Weasely will be heading in there soon to start the process. Which will be easy. We have to make it look as authentic as possible and then release him back to the muggles."

"And Webb?"

"Azkaban. After we get the information we need." Robards replied, "He's arrogant, but his training is poor, I doubt he's ever stepped inside a school. It won't be too difficult."

There was a sound of a door opening and Percy Weasely walked through, a stern look on his face. He was smartly dressed with a suit and tie, the way a muggle solicitor would be. He was holding a leather brown briefcase in one hand and a file folder in the other. He placed the briefcase gently on the table and dropped the file in front of him before sitting down.

"Are ya' me solicitor?" Nash managed to say in a shaky mumbling voice, "I as'ed fo' a s-s-olicitor. Ya suppos' ta g-gim-gimme one, eh?"

"Don't worry, Mr. Nash. That is precisely what I am. My name is Ronald McCoy." Percy replied crisply as he opened the file. Hermione smiled to herself thinking how well Percy adapted to the situation. Although, his brisk mannerisms are nothing different from his own personality. Hermione watched as Percy folded his hands in front of himself and spoke again, "And if you want to get out of this, you're going to have to tell me everything to get you the best possible deal. Do you understand?"

Nash paused, then looked over his shoulder to the window behind Percy. He nodded his head toward it, "Fey can' h-hea' us, righ'?"

Percy shook his head and lied, "No, Mr. Nash. They cannot."

"'Cus, tha's illegal, ya f-feel me?" Nash said, his eyes closing as he tried to resist the withdrawal. "I ain't don' nufin' and fey can' proov it."

"I'll take care of you, Mr. Nash." Percy said and out of nowhere brought out a small cup filled with a steaming liquid and placed it gently on the table, "Here, drink this. The warmth will make you feel better."

Nash stared at Percy then the cup before reaching for it with a shaking hand. He grasped it with both hands to keep it steady and sniffed it. Then he slowly lifted it to his lips. He took a sip, then another, then gulped the rest. In moments, Nash's color returned and he was no longer shaking. In fact, he looked as if he had never touched drugs in his life.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Nash?" Percy said, as he pulled out a black, ballpoint pen and a pad of paper, before shutting his briefcase with a snap.

"Good, mate." Nash replied surprised, draining the rest of his drink and placing the cup back on the table with a steady hand, "Wha' was in tha'?"

"Medication." Percy replied, bending down and writing something down.

"Tasted like chocolate." Nash said, peering into the cup again, as if hoping for more, "Fink I can' get fat a' a Boots, eh? Can' even remember when I was feelin' this good."

"Not readily, no." Percy said, swiftly.

"No lie...should do."

"So, down to business, Mr. Nash." Percy started, briskly, "How do you know Mr. Ryan Webb?"

"He's relation, see?" Nash began, his demeanor had changed dramatically, as if this were a job interview and not an interrogation, "His fafer's uncle is like secun' cousin to me own."

"So, you're family..." Percy said, flipping through the file folder, "...to a Walden McNair?"

Hermione swallowed and gave Harry a quick glance. His face was so close to the glass, his breath was visible on the window.

"His father, Elroy, was second cousin to Walden McNair's father, Dimitri." Robards muttered.

"Interbreeding." Hermione heard Harry sigh.

"Das wha' it look like." Nash continued to Percy, scratching a dirty shaved scalp, "I nefer even me' Webb 'for. Dunno me dad and me mom is in prison. Bu' I don' fink he's lyin'."

"How do you know that?"

"Me gran. She's ole', bu', her mind is still sharp, ye'? She recognise' Webb when he came visitin'."

"...Okay. So, that's when you became involved with him..."

"Nah, mate, no' righ' way." Nash said, shaking his head, "I may be druggie, bu' I ain' stupid, feel me?"

"I thought you didn't think he was lying." Percy said, pausing to look up from his writing.

"He knew info 'bout my fam, no one else could, _unless_ he was fam, and gran knew 'im, like I said. It made sense. Bu' " Nash started, then paused. He leaned forward and spoke in a softer tone, glancing at the window before focusing on Percy, "Webb wan'ed me ta off sum'un. And I ain' down wif fa't."

"Really?" Percy said, writing some more, "What did he say to that?"

"When I tol' him no, I ain' one to kill, he laughed at me." Nash said, shifting in his seat and looking uncomfortable, "I 'fought he was gunna' kill me."

"Why?"

"He was bein' all fidgety, ye', reachin' into his coat for sumfin', dunno wha'...I fought it was a gun,"

"Then what, Mr. Nash?"

Nash shrugged, "Nufin', really. He wud' come by, if he needed sumfin', drugs or te' like. Sumtimes, he'd wan' me 'ta do a bi' of smugglin'."

"Okay." Percy said, writing some more. "Tell me, did Mr. Webb ever ask you to kill again?"

Nash shook his head, "No."

"Do you know who he wanted you to kill?"

"No idea. Never gave me a name." Nash replied, honestly.

Percy wrote, "Alright, and what did you smuggle?"

"I dun' know 'fat, eiver." Nash replied with a shrug, "If I tried to look, I ended up burnin' meself; like sum kinda booby trap shit. Can you believe 'fat?"

Hermione could, she knew Percy could, too. Protection hexes to keep wandering eyes and prying fingers.

"What did you think you might have been smuggling?" Percy continued.

"Dunno. Don' fink it were drugs." Nash explained, shrugging again, "Wen' frogh all 'at trouble just for small packages. Ain't jus' drugs."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Real complex plans, see. Exac' schedules, exac' meetin' spots. Even tol' me how ta dress."

"So you were a courier." Percy said writing and Nash nodded, "Were you paid?"

Nash shook his head and frowned, "Just in drugs. I was desperate. [Unamused chuckle] Don' fink I like 'at stuff no more, imagine."

"Once you handed over these...packages. Then what?"

"I was given money, then I take bus or the Tube to wherefer I was tole' to go."

"How much money?"

"A lo'." Nash said, raising his eyebrows, "I could never count it, it was always sealed in a big envelope, but fey be heavy. Anyfin' for money, I be'. Makes de worl' go 'roun, ain't it?"

"I suppose so." Percy agreed, amusingly. "Now the next few questions I'm going to ask you will be critical."

Nash nodded.

"Were you aware the police had been looking for Mr. Webb?"

"Well, fat's obvious, ain' it?" Nash responded, shrugging, "He's a criminal."

"True, but he's hidden himself, very well."

"Is no' too difficul', especially if you know where to hide, feel me?" Nash said, looking pointedly at Percy, "I know ta bes' places...anofer reason why I ain' killed, I fink."

"You do have quite an arrest record."

"Yea', I know." Nash said, pride in his voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Nash." Percy said, placing down his pen, "Now, I need to ask you one more question and this would be pertinent in order for you to be judged as a character in your defense."

Nash nodded.

"You're a drug addict. You've pilfered, you've threatened, you've hurt to get your hands on whatever drug you needed." Percy started, "Why do you think Webb trusted you in handling all this?"

Nash hesitated, looking uneasy. He took in a breath and let it out slowly, "I was scared, to be hones' wif ya. No' of Webb, he's jus' a kid. Bu' of who he's workin' for."

"And who is that?"

Everyone's head looked up in anticipation.

"Dunno, do I?" Nash replied. Hermione could feel the air frustration in the air. She sighed and continued to listen, "Whoever i' is, he's the one who's been givin' 'e orders. I hear ofer people 'round, and everyone is scared of 'im. Like, truly scared."

"What did you hear?"

"Like, 'dere was fis bloke, ye' and instead of returnin' 'te money, he run off. Next day, ye' he's dead wif his _head_ cut off. Clean cut off. His body jus' layin' fere for te' worl' ta see." Nash shuddered, looking at Percy, "I don' wan' ta die. No' like 'fat."

"I understand, thank you, Mr. Nash." Percy said after a moment, opening his briefcase once again and placing his pad of pad of paper inside. He lifted one side of his jacket and dropped his pen in the inside pocket. Percy then closed the file folder and stood, one hand on his briefcase, "I appreciate how forthcoming you've been. I'm sure you'll be able to get out of this without many repercussions."

"Repercussions?" Nash started, looking worried, "Will I be goin' to prison?"

"You did break the law, Mr. Nash. Several laws, in fact." Percy said, sliding the briefcase off the table and holding the file folder under his arm, "However, because of your honesty, I'm sure the court will find some leniency. I will contact you soon. Goodbye, Mr. Nash."

Nash looked as if he was trying to say something, but Percy had already left through the door. In just a moment, Percy appeared in the room everyone else was in and looked around at the faces, giving a grim smile, as he dropped his briefcase on the ground before reaching for the pen in his pocket, "Hello, all. Hope you got the information you needed."

"Plenty, although we need to question Webb, now." Robards said, giving Percy a nod, "Try to figure out who this person everyone is so frightened of."

"And who killed Ron." Hermione added.

The room fell silent, then Harry spoke up, nodding toward Nash, "What's going to happen with him?"

"Like I said, we release him to the muggle police." Robards said, "Percy will be with him to keep up appearances, but I doubt we'll see him again."

"Don't know how the muggles do this interrogation business without magic, really." Everyone watched as Percy's pen grew into his wand, "Nothing like a little incentive."

"Are we sure Nash is even related to Webb?" Harry asked, following him into the previous room. Doge and Kingsley were gone, "His memories could have easily been changed. His grandmother's, too."

"It is possible." Robards replied, "But that information can be looked at later. Right now, we have to focus on Webb."

"Who is interrogating Webb, Robards?" Hermione asked.

"Harry will." Robards replied, looking at Harry then Hermione.

"I want to be in there."

"No, I can't allow that. You're too close-"

"Please, Sir, this is for Ron-"

"I know." Robards interrupted, shaking his head as he stared at the large crystal ball that held Webb, "Which is precisely why I can't allow you in there."

"What if she's just in there for show? She might see something I miss." Harry spoke up. He looked at Hermione pointedly, "Hermione doesn't have to say a thing."

Robards let out a sigh and closed his eyes briefly. He stared hard at Harry then Hermione, frowning, "Fine. Not a word, Granger and no magic."

"Sir." Hermione gave him a nod and placed her wand on the table that held up Webb's prison.

"Harry," Robards started, "Webb is a child, but he has strong magic, if not a bit undisciplined. You might be able to scare him, easily."

"Not my first interrogation, Sir." Harry grinned. With that, he placed his hand on the ball and in a moment, he was gone.

Hermione walked over to the crystal and looked down to see Harry wiping himself off before approaching Webb. Hermione placed her own hand on the ball feeling warmth, and a tingle through her whole body. Without so much as a think, she found herself inside a darkened room. She looked up to see Harry still staring at a swaying Webb, his wand out and his arms crossed. She walked over to him.

"Look at him." Harry almost whispered, "He's the same age as we were when we started that fight with Voldemort."

Hermione was looking at Ryan Webb. He had long greasy black hair, clinging to a sweaty, forehead. He was thin, too thin. Webb's skull could be seen through his pale skin. Deep, dark circles had formed under his eyes as if he hadn't slept in days. His lips were chapped, his face dry and cut. He looked incredibly sick. He was muttering something, but she couldn't make it out. Perhaps he was dreaming.

"Let's wake him." Harry said. He flicked his wand and Hermione watched Webb fall to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Webb let out a pained grunt and Hermione watched in silence as Harry began to walk circles around him.

"Get up, Webb." There was another grunt, but Webb did not stand. Harry spoke again, so loudly, it echoed throughout the chamber, "Get up, Webb!"

Hermione was silent as Webb did stand, but with difficulty. A small bruise could be seen forming on his pale face and he was holding an odd smile on his lips. She frowned as he began to let out a rather insane child-like giggle but was silenced as soon as his eyes fell on Harry, but his grin only faltered.

"If it isn't the famous Harry Potter." Webb said, hoarsely, his words slurring but a smile spreading across his lips, "Didn't dream I'd see you here."

Hermione could see Harry's look darken, but he didn't say anything. He continued walking around Webb as he spoke, "Do you know where you are?"

"And here you stand, before my very eyes." Webb continued, ignoring the question, "You should know how very delighted I am to see you."

Harry didn't say anything as he continued his pace around Webb. Hermione could see Harry's jaw tighten, but sill, he didn't say a word.

"I have a se-ee-cret." Webb continued in a sing-song voice. He spoke in a low, menacing voice, almost a threatening whisper, "Do you want to know what it is?"

Harry stopped walking, and stood in front of Hermione, folding his arms in front of him. Again Harry stayed quiet, but Hermione could feel the heat of his temper rising from him.

Webb cocked his head, his eyes shifting from Harry's to Hermione, his smile widening wickedly, "Your boy's alive."

Hermione felt the pit of her stomach fall and her throat dry. _What?_ She looked at Harry, but his face was indecipherable, but Hermione knew he felt how she did. His mind was running wild, and for a split second he believed Webb, because he wanted to believe Webb. Hermione so desperately wanted to believe Webb. _Make him talk, Harry!_ Hermione wanted to shout.

"Still not speaking?" Webb started. He looked crazed as he smiled widely, drool coming between his lips, his eyes wide and bloodshot, "Do you want to know more?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Harry asked in a dangerous whisper.

"What was his name?" Webb said in a mocking tone, "Tsk, it was that mud-blood lover... Hmm, what _was_ his name again...oh, yes. Ronald. Bilius. Weasely."

Hermione could feel tears forming in her eyes, but they were not sad tears, but angry ones. She had wrapped a fist around her wand and did not realise her both her hands were in tight fists. She swallowed trying to control her temper as Webb laughed again. She looked at Harry and can see his jaw working furiously. She wasn't sure what he was going to do. Hermione controlled her temper, though, although she didn't know how long before it broke.

"He's dead." Harry said.

Webb giggled insanely, "Why, because you saw him die?"

"Yes." Harry spat.

"He's very much alive, my dear Potter." Webb said with a smile staring at Harry, "Oh the look on your face."

"You're a liar."

"Am I?" Webb replied, laughing under his breath, "If you say so."

"Stop playing games, you son of a bitch. Ron is dead!" Harry said loudly, moving toward Webb. Hermione felt those words ringing in her ears and felt her heart stop at each syllable. Harry's hand was around Webb's throat, but he wasn't squeezing, as much as he wanted to.

"Kill me, and you won't learn anything." Webb said, his head back as his eyes swept over Harry's face. There was a flinch of nervousness but Webb tried to mask this, aware that he had the upper hand at this moment.

"Anything you say is shit."

"But you're curious, aren't you?"

Harry didn't say anything, but his hand was still around Webb's thin throat.

"I know where he is." Webb whispered, but it echoed throughout the entire chamber.

Harry stayed silent, his eyes haven't left Webb's sickly face. Slowly, he released Webb's throat, his wand out and in a fist. Webb's eyes quickly roved over to it before looking back at Harry's face. He let another cocky smile, "Deal?"

"No deal." Harry replied softly, "There are other ways to force you to talk. No one here is above torture, Webb. Talk!"

Webb flinched, "He's alive."

"Who?"

"Weasely."

"Ronald Bilius Wasely?"

Webb was silent, but his stare said everything.

"How do you know?"

"He told me." Webb replied quietly.

"Who?"

Webb paused.

"Webb!" Harry yelled, the entire chamber echoing.

"Pyrites." Webb quickly stated. Webb shuddered as he said the name. He seemed very afraid of that name.

Hermione stared, she knew that name was going to come up again, but there was something else far more significant to her; Ron was alive. Hermione was logical, she knew she could only take this information with a grain of salt. Webb was not to be trusted, but there was that small possibility...

"Pyrites?" Harry repeated, suspiciously, "Tell me about him."

A small smile crept upon his lips, "A powerful wizard. He knew the Dark Lord would fall. He fled before his life was taken from. From the ashes of Lord Voldemort, will rise a new Lord and Master, like a dark phoenix. One where _all_ will bow before his authority and dominance. He will be the leader amongst those that betrayed the Dark Lord at his weakest and will scar the very world and beyond through the force he has been preparing. The day will come, Harry Potter, and _you_ will see the entire world _burn_."

Hermione found herself shaking her head at the words Webb was spouting. It seemed for a moment Webb had completely forgotten where he was, his eyes wide and crazed. He was shaking with glee as he continued to speak. Hermione looked at Harry who seemed as taken aback as she was. She swallowed as she raised her wand and felt the familiar warmth of her wand as she bewitched Webb to sleep, interrupting his rant. Harry let out a sigh it sounded as if he had been holding it for a while. Hermione walked over beside him, their eyes on Webb, his head lulling back and forth as he levitated slightly in the air. He looked peaceful.

"I..." Hermione started, but she couldn't finish.

"We will find out whether you are the liar we know you are, Webb." Harry said softly, watching Webb carefully.

Hermione jumped when she felt Harry's hand on her arm, startling slightly. He gave her a very small smile and with his wand he made a flick of his wrist and the two of them were back in the room where the crystal ball sat silently. Robards and Kingsley stared at them, looking as Hermione and Harry felt and completely at a loss for words.


	6. Now that I'm here, Where Am I?

He screamed.

There was an echo.

He woke up.

He didn't know where he was, but he didn't feel confused. He didn't feel hungry or thirsty, either. In fact, none of those thoughts crossed his mind. His only thought was to stand up and walk. He wasn't sure where he was going.

He continued to walk.

He felt a breeze, but it wasn't cold. It wasn't warm. It was comfortable.

He continued to walk.

He could heard his footsteps as he placed one in front of the other. It echoed, but then it didn't, as if something was stopping it from going very far. He was just aware of it.

He continued to walk.

He decided to place his hands out to his side, there was nothing around him. He wasn't inside, but he wasn't outside. A new thought began to form. Where was he?

He continued to walk, slightly faster.

He could hear his heart now. It was stronger, and he could feel it pumping through his chest. He lifted a hand and placed it across his chest. There it was, beating away. He didn't like how it felt. Where was he?"

He began to jog.

He noticed something finally. Off in the distance. A light source, maybe. It was foggy and unclear, but he could see something. He paused and lifted a hand in front of his face. He recognised it as his hands. He knew that. He looked up again and continued. Where. Was. He?

He began to run.

He sprinted toward the light. He could feel the breeze, it was colder now and it made him shiver, but he continued on, his footsteps loud, and his heart pumping in his ears. He wanted to find that light. He needed it. It was so close, but no matter how hard he pushed himself, it seemed to stay away. No, he needed that light. Another sudden thought crossed his mind. Hermione.


End file.
